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MARGARET  W0FF1NGT0N   as    "SIR  HARRY  WILDAIR. 


FROM    *    PA.NMN'.   BY   WM.    HOGARTH. 
■      .■*. 


WOFFINGTON 


A  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  ACTRESS  AND  THE  WOMAN 


AUGUSTIN     DALY 

ft  ■ 


PHOTOGRAVURE     ILLUSTRATIONS 


(SECOND     EDITION) 


Published  for  the  Author 
by 

NIMS    AND    KNIGHT 

TROY   N.  Y. 
*1 


•       *  >  j 


^ 


I 


„ 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress 
by  August  in  Daly,   jS88. 

Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress 
by  Augustin  Daly,    1891. 


PRESS   OF 

N.    Y.    PHOTO-GRAVURE  CO., 

137    W.    23RD  ST., 


,KE\V>YORK.  ,(    ..  ,     .  <      ; 

t  '    (  ,  <       *       1     I     *  t     I         c 


t .  <  I  I  ,< 


Preface  to  the  Second  Edition. 


The  information  that  a  new  edition  of  his  work  has  become  a  neces- 
sity is  exceedingly  gratifying  to  an  Author,  and  in  this  case  it  is  no  draw- 
back to  his  satisfaction  to  believe  that  the  subject  of  the  book  is  what  has 
proved  its  attraction. 

Writers  find  one  of  their  pleasures  in  the  assurance  that  they  have 
in  some  way,  whether  in  the  way  they  intended  or  not,  hit  the  public 
fancy ;  and  the  triumph  of  bookmakers  is  in  having  selected  subjects 
about   which   the  world  is  eager   to  know. 

But  in  collecting  from  many  sources  all  that  is  recorded  of  the 
life  and  doings  of  Mistress  Margaret  Woffington,  and  putting  it  into  one 
volume  with  my  personal  tribute  to  the  memory  of  so  conscientious  a 
public  servant,  I  had  no  expectation  of  producing  a  book .  which  would 
prove  interesting  to  all  classes  of  readers  ;  nor  had  I,  (as  in  my 
managerial  exertions  I  always  do  have)  the  purpose  of  making  every 
effort  to  secure  the  popular  favor ;  so  I  cannot  plume  myself  upon  the 
selection  of  subject,  nor  the  art  of  treating  it.  I  set  out  to  write  from 
a  full  heart  all  that  the  moving  story  of  Woffington  inspired.  I  did  not 
choose  the  subject : — it  chose  me  ; — and  if  the  selection  of  the  pen  is 
crowned  with  success,  and  the  much  loved — much  maligned — much 
praised — and  greatly  blamed  woman,  has  found  a  biographer  satisfying  in 
any  degree — let  us  acknowledge  again  the  power  that  Peg  Woffington 
exercises  a  century  after  she  has  passed  away,  rather  than  award  any 
particular  credit  for  the  success  of  this  memoir  to 


New  York  December  3d,   1890. 


M&39&L0 


A  Table  of  the  Plates. 


21 


Woffington  as  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  .  .  .  Frontispiece. 

Her  Earliest  Portrait,  ....         Facing  page     13 

Woffington's  first  Interview  with  Manager  Rich, 

Margaret  Woffington  in  i  740, 

Woffington  and  Shuter  in  the  Merry  Wives, 

Woffington  as  Mrs.  Ford, 

Woffington  in  1745,     . 


Phcebe, 

Susanna  Maria  Cibber, 

As  the  Female  Volunteer, 

Woffington  in  her  Prime, 

From  a  Painting  in  the  Kensington  Gallery 

Her  Last  Portrait, 

The  Woffington  Almshouses, 

Fac-Simile  of  Her  Autograph, 

The  Little  Church  in  Teddington, 

The  Tablet  in  Teddington  Church, 

Fac-Simile  of  the  first  and  only  Memoir  of  Mrs 
Woffington, 


38 

44 
56 

65 

77 

97 

1 1 2 

124 

i35 
145 
i5o 

l52 

i53 
1 54 

1 65 


Fac-Simile  of  Playbill  of  Woffington's  Last  New  Part, 

Facing  page      172 


A  Table  of  Chapters. 


By  way  of  Prologue,         .... 

Period     I.  From  the  Cradle  to  the  Tight-rope, 

II.  From  Lilliput  to  Ophelia, 

III.  From  Aungier  Street  to  Covent  Garden, 

IV.  From  Covent  Garden  to  Drury.Lane, 
V.  From  the  Thames  to  the  Liffey,    . 

VI.  From  House-drawing  to  House-keeping, 

VII.  F"rom  Peace  to  Rupture,     . 

VIII.  From  Contf:st  to  Contest,  . 

IX.  I:rom  Stage  to  Drawing-room, 

X.  From  the  Frying-pan  into  the  Fire, 

"        XI.  P'rom  Poets  to  Critics, 

"      XII.  From  Teddington  to  Smock  Alley, 

"     XIII.  From  Clubs  to  Firebrands,  .    . 

XIV.  From  Bellamy  to  Wilkinson, 

XV.  From  Life  to  Death, 


PAGE 
I 


21 
30 

38 

44 
56 
65 

77 
82 

97 
1 1  2 
124 

135 
145 


Addenda. 


I.  List  of  Parts  acted  by  Woffington, 

II.  Woffington's  Ghost, 

III.  A  Monody  to  Woffington's  Memory, 

IV.  Index, 


160 
1 65 
167 

173 


BY   WAY   OF    PROLOGUE. 


I  HAVE  set  myself  a  pleasant  task:  to  call  a  closer  attention,  than  has 
heretofore  been  given,  to  one  bright  figure  in  the  throng  of  beautiful 
and  clever  women  who  rise  up  before  us  when  we  give  a  thought  to 
the  stage  and   its   favorites  in   the   Eighteenth   Century. 

The  lovable  woman  I  write  of  was  the  pet  of  countless  audiences,  the 
star  of  numberless  brilliant  performances,  and  the  first  topic  of  every  tongue,  in 
the  days  of  her  glory — a  little  over  a  century  and  a  quarter  ago. 

She  had  sonnets  written  in  her  praise;  she  was  the  subject  of  a  thousand 
floating  paragraphs  in  the  papers  of  her  time ;  of  much  idle  gossip  in  society ; 
of  more  than  one  malevolent  memoir;  and  is  the  heroine  of  modern  romance 
and  story — and  yet  there  is   not  a  really  authentic  biography  of  her  in   print. 

My  purpose  is  to  set  this  figure  before  you  in  its  true  proportions ;  to 
fix  the  identity  of  this  visionary  face ;  to  catch  the  glance  and  smile  of  this 
popular  favorite ;  to  write  down  everything  that  is  obtainable  of  her  true  history ; 
to  walk  with  her;  talk  with  her;  applaud  her  as  she  trips  out  before  the 
foodights ;    watch   her  achieve  one  of  those  marvellous  triumphs  over  strange 


I  <    I      If      I 

t        I    I      <      t  ( 


BY   WAY  OF  PROLOGUE. 

audiences,  and  over  audiences  rendered  even  indifferent — from  confidence  in  her 
powers  and  familiarity  with  them ;  to  condole  with  her  when  she  meets  her 
reverses ;  unite  in  the  cheers  which  salute  her  renewed  successes,  and  at  last 
see  the  curtain  fall  upon  the  scene  full  of  movement  and  glitter,  yet  tinged 
with  tragedy,  in   which   she  played   her  brilliant  part. 

There  was  a  special  charm  for  me  in  the  name  of  Peg  Woffington  long 
before  I  found  her  idealized  in  Charles  Reade's  novel ;  and  I  wondered  why 
no  writer  had  done  for  her  what  Cunningham  has  done  for  Nell  Gwynne  or 
Boaden  for  Dora  Jordan ;  and  that  not  one  word  painter  had  given  us  even 
such  an  outline  of  her  as  we  possess  of  Nance  Oldfield.  Thackeray  has 
outlined  her  during  the  last  year  of  her  stage  life  :  still  it  is  only  a  stroke 
of  the  pen  which  he  gives.  But  invented  episodes  and  manufactured  con- 
versations are  not  needed  to  picture  Margaret  Woffington  for  us.  The 
newspapers  and  the  letters  of  her  lifetime  will  paint  the  portrait,  and  from 
these  I  shall   select,  as  it  were,   my  brushes  and  colors. 

Turn  to  what  page  you  will  in  the  stage  history  of  the  middle  of  the 
last  century  you   must  come   upon  the   name   of  "  Mrs.  Woffington." 

I  found  her  particularly  present  when  I  turned  to  the  memoirs  of  bygone 
managers  for  consoling  parallels  to  my  own  occasional  disappointments  in  the. 
defection  of  some  restless  member  of  my  company,  or  in  the  dismaying 
indifference  of  the  public  to  some  of  my  favorite  performances ;  and  found 
myself  wondering  whether  ill  success  is  due  to  special  circumstances,  or  is 
inseparable   from   the   managerial   career   at   regularly   recurring   periods. 

I  found  the  large-hearted  and  clear-headed  Woffington  always  faithful 
to  the  management  of  the  theatre  in  which  she  was   engaged ;  consulting  the 

(*) 


BY  WAY  OF  PROLOGUE. 

interests  of  the  public  rather  than  listening  to  the  promptings  of  vanity,  or 
to  the  injudicious  flattery  of  friends.  Never  would  she  disappoint  an  audience, 
or  abet  an  insurrection  against  the  orderly  administration  of  the  theatre.  I 
find  her  in  London,  and  in  Dublin  also,  when  at  the  very  apex  of  public 
admiration,  surrendering  leading  parts  in  plays  and  accepting  seconds  to  lesser 
performers.*  She  was  rewarded  for  all  this  by  a  popularity  which  has  never 
been   surpassed   in   the  history  of  the  stage. 

Why  has  not  her  career  been  the  subject  of  a  volume  worthy  of  her 
in  the  past?  Perhaps  it  is  because  the  triumphs  of  the  heroines  of  comedy  do 
not  stimulate  the  efforts  of  serious  biographers — for  biographers  are  a  serious 
lot.  At  all  events  the  tragedians  have  had  a  larger  share  of  the  attention  of 
these  serious  writers.  The  laughter-loving  goddesses  of  the  stage  are,  perhaps, 
too  light  and  fleeting  for  their  heavy  pens.  Yet  turn  where  we  may,  we  shall 
find  a  deep  tragedy  in  the  lives  of  these  daughters  of  Momus.  Mirth  will 
fill  the  eyes  with  tears  as  soon  as  grief  will — and  sometimes  the  drops  that 
gaiety  has  engendered  turn  with  the  suddenness  of  lightning  to  streams  from 
an  overcharged  heart.  But  the  real  tragedy  is  in  this :  that  all  conscientious 
acting  exhausts  the  performer,  and  that  this  is  especially  true  of  the  best 
comedy  acting;  for  the  naturalness  demanded  in  comedy  taxes  the  resources 
of  genius  to  the  utmost — the  art  of  concealing  art  being  there  necessarily 
required  in  perfection.  It  is  certain  that  the  arduous  nature  of  comedy  acting 
has  been  too  frequently  underestimated.  The  tragic  actor  who  fumes  and  frets 
and  struts  and  bellows   forth  his   passion  has   absolutely  not  exhausted  himself 


*  The  Dublin   Gazette,   1753,  has    this  cast:— fane  Shore,   Miss   Ward;    Alicia,  Miss 
Woffington. 

(ft) 


BY  WAY  OF  PROLOGUE. 

half  so  much  as  the  comedian,  who,  with  ease  and  naturalness,  has  just  charmed 
us,  and  whose  art  appears  so  simple  and  so  light  and  facile.  The  labor  of 
repression  in  his  case  has  been  doubly  as  exhausting  as  the  work  of  the 
tragedian,   with  all   his   apparent  effort. 

In  preparing  this  book  I  have  disregarded  the  often  malicious  pictures 
in  early  pamphlets  relating  to  Mrs.  Woffington,  as  well  as  the  later  more  fanciful 
portraiture  of  Molloy.  I  am  going  to  try  and  give  the  fair  and  womanly 
creature  as  the  brief  chronicles  of  the  press  and  the  letter-writers  in  her  life- 
time presented  her  from  day  to  day  and  year  to  year ;  to  show  the  child — 
the  girl — the  woman,  as  she  was  seen  by  the  public  in  her  own  time ;  and  to 
endeavor,  by  catching  the  reflections  from  the  many  glasses  that  mirrored 
her  in  every  step  of  her  career,  to  present  her  in  all  the  lights  in  which 
we  view  the  players  who  live  and  move   before   us. 


(4) 


PERIOD    I. 


FROM  THE  CRADLE  TO  THE  TIGHT-ROPE. 


A  HUNDRED  and  seventy-five  years  ago  there  were  several  playhouses 
in  Dublin  in  which  the  drama  was  rendered  with  a  considerable  degree 
of  merit,  and  the  Irish  capital  was  looked  upon  as  only  second  to 
London  in  importance  as  a  theatrical  centre.  Indeed,  as  the  maker  and 
unmaker  of  theatrical  reputations  and  fortunes,  the  Dublin  audience  held  quite 
the   balance  of  power  until   very   recent  years. 

In  the  first  quarter  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  the  principal  playhouse 
in  Dublin  was  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Aungier  Street,  then  the  centre  of  the 
aristocratic  trading  quarter,  now,  in  this  last  quarter  of  the  Nineteenth  Century, 
given  over  to  shops  of  semi-gentility,  and  visited  by  strangers  only  when 
in  search  of  the  tablet  and  niche  with  its  petty  bust  of  Tom  Moore, 
which  mark  the  house  where  the  poet  was  born.  At  the  "  Theatre  Royal " 
plays  were  set  and  acted  with  an  elaboration  of  detail,  cleverness  and  ability 
which  were  looked  upon  at  that  period  as  the  highest  achievements  of  talent. 
Four  brothers  by  the  name  of  Elrington  were  chief  favorites  in  the  company, 
of  whom  many  excellent  records  have  been  left  by  the  writers  and  his- 
torians of  the  period*  who  have  described  them  as  the  admiration  of  the 
opposite  sex  and  the  envy  of  their  own.  The  Smock  Alley  Theatre  came 
next  to  the  Aungier  Street  house  in  popular  esteem,  but  did  not  dispute  its 
superiority.      In   fact,  Smock  Alley  Theatre  was  at  that  time  quite   the   "old" 

*  Hitchcock's  View  of  the  Irish  Stage,   Vol.  I,  p.  p6. 

(5) 


PERIOD  I. 

house,  and  in  more  or  less  dilapidated  condition,  while  that  in  Aungier  Street 
had  been  but  recently  opened.  But,  though  the  Theatre  Royal,  with  the 
Elrington  brothers  *  as  prime  magnets,  was  patronized  by  "  the  Castle "  and  the 
fashionable  circles  of  Dublin  society,  Smock  Alley  was  held  in  equal  favor 
by  the  middle  classes,  who  were  satisfied  to  accept  a  less  dignified  style  of 
the  drama  in  their  old  and  favorite  theatre,  and  were  not  so  fastidious  about 
the  merits  of  the  company. 

In  addition  to  these  greater  playhouses  there  were  several  more  modest 
ones  in  which  various  kinds  of  entertainment  were  offered;  and  each  theatre 
enjoyed  such  a  degree  of  support  from  its  adherents  that  Dublin  was  looked 
on  at  the  time  as  second  only  to  London  in  its  appreciation  of  the  pleasures 
offered  by  the  Stage. 

Among  the  less  pretentious,  yet  not  less  popular,  of  these  minor 
establishments  was  a  little  band-box  of  a  place  situated  in  Fawnes'  Court, 
just  off  College  Green,  which  had  been  opened  by  a  Frenchwoman  named 
Violante,  who  had  come  to  Ireland  about  1720.  She  was  the  sole  manager  and 
chief  performer  in  a  company  of  rope-dancers  and  tumblers  which  she  had 
brought  across  the  channel  as  a  novelty  to  please  the  Dublinites.  Lee  Lewes 
and  Hitchcock  both  describe  the  difficulties  which  Madame  Violante  encountered 
in  seeking  an  opening  for  her  performances,  which,  I  suppose,  may  be  classified 
as  the  variety  entertainment  of  the  period.  The  existing  theatres  were  all 
occupied,  and  playing  to  such  good  business  that  she  could  hire  none  of 
them  for  her  exhibition.  The  enterprising  Frenchwoman  speedily  got  out  of 
this  quandary  by  fashioning  a  theatre  for  herself.  She  engaged  a  large  house 
fronting  on  Fawnes'  Court,  and  which  had  formerly  been  occupied  as  a  resi- 
dence by  Lord   Chief  Justice  Whitchal.      The  yard  or  garden   in    the    rear  of 

*  Both  Lewes  and  HitcJicock  agree  in  praise  of  these  Elringtons.  The  famous  Thomas 
Elrington  was  regarded  as  unsurpassed  in  robust  roles,  and  his  creation  of  Busiris  and  Langa 
were  never  attempted  by  other  actors  with  a  success  equivalent  to  tliat  which  /tad  marked  the 
original  performance.  Francis  Elrington,  the  second  brother,  was  alike  celebrated  for  his  old 
men,  and  no  actor,  it  was  believed,  could  surpass  the  excellence  of  his  Sir  Francis  Gripe.  The 
third  brother,  Ralph,  was  noted  for  /lis  careful  and  conscientious  acting,  but  had  no  especial 
reputation  in  any  particular  part;  while  the  youngest  brother  of  the  talented  family  played 
lovers,  boys  and  fine  gentlemen  with  so  pleasing  a  grace  that  he  was  at  once  the  admiration 
and  the  envy  of  the  two  sexes. 

(6) 


FROM  THE  CRADLE   TO   THE  TIGHT-ROPE. 

the  house,  with  an  opening  off"  the  parlor  or  drawing-room  floor,  was  com- 
modious enough  to  be  especially  adapted  for  the  reception  of  a  great  number 
of  people,  and  Violante  hired  carpenters  and  set  them  at  once  to  work 
covering  this  space,  and  converting  it  into  a  species  of  booth  and  theatre 
combined.  Her  business  enterprise  aroused  the  curiosity  of  the  town.  Before 
a  month  was  over  she  had  opened  the  old  mansion  house  in  its  new  shape, 
and  the  first  night  it  was  thronged  with  people  desirous  to  see  the  novelties 
she  had  advertised  so  uniquely.  The  strange  entertainment,  we  are  to 
presume,  tickled  the  fancy  of  the  gentry  of  Dublin  highly.  From  the 
various  records  of  the  period  it  would  seem  that  Madame  Violante's  bill  was 
a  foretaste  of  the  modern  music  hall  programme.  Very  soon  after  her 
arrival  in  Dublin  she  had  attained  enough  prominence  to  be  mentioned  in 
Swift's  letters  and   referred  to  in   his   celebrated  defence  of   Lord   Carteret* 

The  Frenchwoman  possessed  an  excellent  reputation,  not  only  for 
professional  talent,  but  for  exemplary  character,  and  before  long  became  much 
of  a  favorite  in  all  circles.  Indeed,  she  seems  to  have  been  a  person  of 
varied  accomplishments.  In  addition  to  maintaining  a  reputation  for  managerial 
acuteness,  she  was  renowned  as  a  performer  who  danced  with  much  spright- 
liness  on  the  tight-rope,  and  made  a  passage  from  one  extremity  of  her  cord 
to  the  other,  with  a  basket  tied   to   each  foot  and    a   baby  in    each    basketf 

*  John,  Lord  Carteret  and  Earl  Gtanville,  was  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland  between 
1724.-1730,  having  accepted  tliat  painful  preferment  in  order  to  avert  the  utter  disgrace 
which  Walpole  had  intended  for  him,  in  his  ingenious  revenge  for  Carterefs  cabal  with 
the  Brodericks  in  the  coinage  case  and  the  Woods  patent.  It  was  in  defending  Carteret 
against  the  furtfur  humiliations  contemplated  by  Lord  Orford  that  Swift  sarcastically  wrote: 
"I  have  not  heard  whether  any  care  has  hitherto  been  taken  to  discover  whether  the  Italian 
rope  dancer,  Violante,  be  a  whig  or  tory  in  her  principles,  or  even  that  she  has  ever  been 
offered  the  oath  by  Government :  on  the  contrary  I  am  told  that  she  openly  professes  herself 
to  be  a  highflyer,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  by  her  outlandish  name  she  may  also  be  a 
Papist  in  her  lieart:  yet  we  see  this  illustrious  and  dangerous  female  openly  preferred  by 
principal  persons  of  both  parties,  who  contribute  to  her  support  in  a  splendid  manner  without 
the  least  apprehension  of  a  grand  jury,  or  even  from  Squire  Hartly  Hutchinson  himself— that 
zealous  prosecutor  of  hawkers  and  libels.  And  as  Hobbes  wisely  observes,  so  much  money  being 
equivalent  to  so  much  power,  it  may  deserve  considering  with  what  safety  such  an  instrument 
of  power  ought  to  be  trusted  in  the  hands  of  an  alien  (Violante)  who  has  not  given  any  legal 
security  for  her  good  affection  to  the  Government." — Swift's  "  Vindication  of  Lord  Carteret." 

f  "  Mackliniana  " — European  Magazine,  May,   1800, 

(7) 


PERIOD  I. 

One  of  the  babies  that  thus  unwittingly  came  before  those  audiences 
as  a  public  performer  was  the  child  of  John  Woffington,  a  journeyman  brick- 
layer of  Dublin.  He  was  a  sober,  industrious,  honest  man,  who  worked 
steadily  at  his  trade  and  earned  enough  wages  by  it,  we  are  told,  to  main- 
tain his  household  in  some  degree  of  comfort.  His  wife  was  a  good  looking, 
shrewd  woman,  of  the  same  class  in  life  as  her  husband,  a  thrifty  house- 
keeper who  managed  their  little  income  so  well  that  the  humble  cottage  in 
George's  Lane  (?),  near  Dame  Street,  in  which  they  lived,  was  a  home  of 
content  and  happiness.  They  were  married,  as  near  as  we  can  judge,  some 
time  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  171 7,  and  had  two  children:  Margaret, 
born  October  18th,  1718,  and  Mary,  who  was,  at  the  time  of  Peggy's  debut 
in   the  basket,   a  babe  at  the  breast* 

From  such  scanty  information  as  I  can  gather  regarding  John  Woffing- 
ton, he  was  a  man  of  but  ordinary  intelligence,  with  neither  the  ability  to 
raise  himself  in  his  trade,  nor  ambition  or  reflection  enough  to  exchange  it 
for  something  better ;  but  his  wife  was  frugal,  and  by  the  practice  of  economy 
was  enabled  to  lay  by  a  small  sum  for  emergencies.  The  emergency  soon 
came.  In  the  Spring  of  1720,  John  Woffington  was  seized  with  a  fever. 
But,  with  the  prejudice  against  medical  aid  not  uncommon  among  poor 
people,  he  refused  to  be  attended  by  a  doctor.  For  a  month  or  so  he 
lingered  with  the  disease,  but  died  in  1720,  before  the  summer  had  well 
begun,  leaving  his  wife  unprovided  for.  His  illness  had  exhausted  the  trifling 
sum  laid  by,  and  when  her  husband  died,  Mrs.  Woffington  was  not  only 
penniless,  but  in  debt.f  The  expenses  of  the  funeral  were  borne  by  the 
parish  in  which  the  Woffington's  lived,  and  the  widow  with  her  infant  children 
was  left  in   abject  poverty. 

Thus  cast  upon  her  own  resources,  and  being  a  strong,  healthy  woman, 
the  widow  took  in  washing.  For  some  months  she  was  enabled  in  this  way 
to  support  herself  and  her  two  children.  Her  kindly  neighbors,  however,  took 
a   charitable  interest  in   her  welfare,  and   lent   the  widow  enough  money  to  start 

*  Hitchcock's  View  of  the  Irish  Stage,   Vol.  I,  p.  4.J. 
|  Hitchcock,   Vol.  I.  v  v 

(8) 


FROM  THE  CRADLE   TO  THE  TIGHT-ROPE. 

a  small  huckster's  shop  in  the  poorest  part  of  Ormond  Quay.  Here  she 
struggled  for  a  while  to  earn  a  livelihood,  but  the  profits  of  the  business 
were  meagre,  and  Mrs.  Woffington  had  neither  experience  enough  to  avoid 
bad  debts  nor  capital  to  recover  from  them.  Before  the  year  was  out  she 
was  dispossessed  for  non-payment  of  rent,  and  forced  to  sell  water-cress  on  the 
streets  for  subsistence*  It  is  at  this  juncture  that  little  Margaret  Woffington 
enters   upon   the   scene   for  the  first  time. 

Engaged  by  the  Frenchwoman,  Violante,  for  the  culminating  act  of  her 
tight-rope  performance,  in  which  she  was  advertised  to  carry  two  babies  in 
baskets  attached  to  her  feet,  John  Woffington' s  eldest  orphan  became  one 
of  the  babies  in  the  basket,  and  in  this  way  helped  to  increase  her  mother's 
scanty  income.  With  the  younger  infant  in  her  arms  the  widow  went 
through  the  busy  streets  of  Dublin  calling  her  humble  vegetables,  and  stopped 
after  the  performance  was  over  to  bring   Peggy  home.f 

From  these  lowly  circumstances  came  two  women  who,  in  maturity, 
occupied  much  of  the  world's  attention :  the  one,  famous  for  her  wit,  grace 
and  beauty ;  the  other,  celebrated  in  being  her  lovely  and  fashion-courted 
sister:  for  the  infant  in  arms  is  Mary  Woffington  (named  after  her  mother), 
who  in   later  life   became   the   Honorable   Mrs.    Cholmondeley. 

Before  little  Peggy's  second  season  on  the  stage,  or,  rather,  in  the 
basket,  had  well  begun,  Madame  Violante's  receipts  from  her  theatre  began 
to  decrease.  A  performance  that  pleases  the  senses  only  by  marvels  of 
physical  skill  and  offers  nothing  to  interest  the  mind,  cannot  long  remain 
popular.  The  people  of  Dublin  grew  weary  of  tumbling  and  dancing  and 
feats  of  agility.  They  deserted  the  Frenchwoman  as  quickly  as  they  had 
accepted  her,  and  steadily  refused  to  be  tempted  by  new  tricks  in  pantomime 
or  fresh  wonders  on  the  tight-rope.  Madame  Violante  accepted  the  inevitable. 
She  left  Dublin  with  her  company  and  went  to  Scotland,  where  her  perform- 
ances met  with  varying  success.      The  departure  of   the    acrobats,    of   course, 

*  "  Mackliniana"— European  Magazine,  May,  1800.      Private  MS.  of  Macklin  given  by 
Mr.  Dame  to  Garrick  Club.     Taylor's  Records,   Vol.  I,  p.  324..     Lee  Lewes'  Memoirs,   Vol.  I. 
t  Private  Collection  of  Newspaper  Clippings  in  possession  of  Mr.  Thomas  J.  McKee, 

(9) 


PERIOD  I. 

lost  the  child  of  the  basket  her  engagement.  But  little  Peggy  did  not  remain 
long  idle.  As  soon  as  she  could  toddle  unsupported  through  the  streets,  she 
was  sent  out  by  her  mother  to  sell  water-cress.  For  some  three  or  four 
years  the  child  wandered  through  the  town,  barefoot  and  clad  in  rags,  crying 
"All  this  fine  young  salad  for  a  ha'penny,  all  for  a  ha'penny,  all  for  a 
ha'penny  here."*  The  little  one's  frequent  visits  to  College  Green  attracted  the 
notice  and  kindly  interest  of  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  University,  who  were 
delighted  by  her  pretty  face  and  aptness  of  repartee.  They  bought  her  water- 
cress regularly,  and  did  much  by  their  kindly  patronage  to  keep  the  child  in 
comfort  and  good  spirits.  One  of  little  Peggy's  duties  at  the  end  of  her 
daily  routine  was  to  fetch  a  pitcher  of  water  from  the  Liffey  to  her  mother.f 
The  road  to  the  river  passed  a  house  in  George's  Street  in  which  Madame 
Violante  was  now  living.  The  Frenchwoman  had  returned  to  Dublin  for 
some  time  after  the  failure  of  her  speculation  in  Scotland  and  England,  and 
was  engaged  in  forming  a  company  of  children  to  present  the  latest  London 
craze,    Gay's    "Beggars'    Opera,"   in   the  George's   Lane  Theatre.J 

Peggy  was  at  this  time  ten  years  old,  and  as  she  tripped  past  the  French- 
woman's window,  with  her  water-jar  on  her  head,  probably  caught  the  foreigner's 
quick  eye,  and  was  soon  secured  for  the  troupe  of  "Lilliputians,"  as  Violante 
later  advertised  her  juvenile  actors.  Little  Woffington's  graceful  carriage,  her 
winsome  face,  and  her  aptitude  for  dancing  and   general  altertness  soon  made 


*  Memoirs  of  Lee  Lewes,  Vol.  II.        f  Lee  Lewes. 

%  Davies'  Life  of  Garrick,  p.  346.       Davies  speaks  of  Violante 's  second  theatre  as 

being  in  George's  Lane.  George's  Street  was,  probably,  the  site  of  Violante' s  booth.  George's 
Street,  which  way  have  been  a  "Lane"  before  its  improvements,  has  recently  been  widened,  and 
one-half  of  the  houses  having  gone  the  way  of  all  bricks  and  mortar,  are  replaced  by  the 
facade  of  a  handsome  market.  Opposite  this  many  of  the  old  houses  of  Woffington's  time  still 
stand,  and  from  here  run  two  narrow  courts,  one  called  George's  Avenue  and  the  other  George's 
Place.  One  of  these  blind  alleys  must  be  the  George's  Lane  which  is  mentioned  as  the  home  of 
John  Woffington  and  the  place  of  Peggy's  birth.  They  are  narrow,  side-walkless  cuts  de  sac, 
lined  on  either  side  with  low,  cleanly,  wldte-washed  cabins — scarcely  houses — which  remain  now 
(1886)  as  they  must  have  stood  in  Woffington's  time; — and  in  these  outlines  one  might  trace 
the  design  of  the  Woffington  Cottages  for  the  poor,  erected  at  Teddington  in  1J60.  The  houses 
in  George's  Avenue  are  the  humble  abode  of  clean  but  certain  poverty  to-day,  as  they  must  lutve 
been  a  hundred  and  sixty  years  ago. 

(10) 


FROM  THE  CRADLE  TO   THE   TIGHT-ROPE. 

her  the  favorite  of  her  mistress  above  all  her  juvenile  troupe.*  This 
Frenchwoman  must  have  been  a  manager  of  great  discernment,  since  for  the 
company  of  "  Lilliputians "  she  had  judgment  enough  to  select  several  children 
whose  later  career  proved  her  shrewdness.  The  afterward  celebrated  Isaac 
Sparks  made  his  first  appearance  as  Peachum  in  this  performance  of  "The 
Beggars'  Opera."  The  no  less  celebrated  Bensley  was  introduced  as  Lockit  ; 
Barrington,  who  became  quite  popular  in  low  comedy,  was  Filch,  and  Betty 
Martin  made  her  first  bow  before  the  public,  under  Madame  Violante's  direc- 
tion, as  Captain  Macheath.      Peggy  was  the  Polly  of  the  cast. 

We  read  that  little  Peggy  carried  herself  gracefully,  was  free  from 
nervousness,  and  danced  in  such  a  sprightly  manner  that  her  cleverness  was 
a  general  theme  of  talk  among  her  audiences.f  Her  bright  and  attractive 
face  and  the  precocious  intelligence  displayed  in  her  acting  immediately 
gained  for  her  a  place  in  popularity  that  none  of  her  young  rivals  could 
dispute. 

I  dwell  upon  this  fact  of  Woffington's  precocity,  to  which  Hitchcock,  as 
well  as  all  who  have  written  of  her  at  this  period  of  her  career  testify, 
not  because  stage  precocity  is  a  rarity,  or  ever  has  been,  but  because  one  may 
number  on  the  fingers  of  a  single  hand  the  bright  stars  who  realized  in 
maturity  the  talents  of  which  they  gave  evidence  in  ipfancy.  Leontine  Fay 
upon  the  French  stage,  Kate  Bateman  upon  our  own,  and  Jean  Davenport 
(later  known  as  Mrs.  General  Lauder — but  earlier  identified  with  Dickens' 
"Infant  Phenomenon")  and  Clara  Fisher  Maeder.J  known  equally  well  to  the 
English  and  American  stage,  are  as  many  as  I  can  remember  at  present. 
Master  Betty's  fire  went  out  with  his  boyhood.  To  be  sure,  we  know  that 
Mrs.   Kendall  and    Ellen    Terry    both    acted    as    children   and  are   now  bright 


*  O'Keefe's  Recollections,  Vol.  I,  p.  16. 

f  European  Magazine,  January,  i?p5. 

X  This  remarkable  woman,  who  charmed  our  grandfathers  by  her  precocity,  is  yet  alive 
(1887),  and,  0  fate  of  greatness,  is  playing  the  principal  "  old  women,"  or,  to  be  less  technical, 
parts  similar  to  those  created  by  our  own  rare  Mrs.  Gilbert,  on  the  New  York  Stage,  and 
is  hale  and  hearty,  though  acting  in  "one  night  stands"  with  one  of  the  traveling  theatrical 
companies  annually  making  the  tour  of  this  country. 

(») 


PERIOD  I. 

lights  of  our  dramatic  era,  but  they  do  not  come  within  the  category  of 
infantile  phenomena  as  the  others  do,  and,  more  prominendy  than  all  others, 
Margaret  Woffington. 

In  her  case  there  was  plenty  of  talent  among  her  juvenile  associates 
to  stimulate  and  assist  her  childish  ambition.  With  a  rivalry  of  merit  so 
great,  the  little  performer  was  sure  of  incentive ;  and  to  be  brief,  this 
performance  of  the  "  Beggars'  Opera "  was  so  positive  a  success,  and  drew  such 
crowded  houses,  that  the  popularity  of  Violante's  booth  gave  rise  to  great 
alarm  in  the  other  theatres.  The  actors  of  Smock  Alley,  probably  being 
more  affected  than  those  of  the  higher  house  by  the  popularity  of  the 
"  Lilliputians,"  petitioned  the  Lord  Mayor  to  interpose  his  authority  and  forbid 
the  performances  at  the  new  playhouse  on  the  ground  that  "they  interfered 
with  the  business"  of  the  older  ones.  This  he  strangely  consented  to  do, 
and  immediately  issued  an   order  closing  the   Frenchwoman's   establishment. 

The  people  of  Dublin  were  highly  incensed  at  the  injustice  done  to  their 
favorite  juveniles,  and  through  the  interest  of  several  a  new  theatre  was 
hastily  built  in  Rainsford  Street,  outside  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Lord  Mayor, 
and  situated  on  the  property  of  the  Earl  of  Meath,  a  nobleman  who  had 
shown  great  interest  in  the  litde  players.  Here  the  "  Lilliputians "  were 
formally  installed  in  the  year  1729,  and  the  opera  resumed  with  its  former 
success.* 

In  the  new  house  more  of  the  gentry  began  to  attend,  and  some  of 
the  leading  spirits  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  in  their  search  for  fresh  talent, 
commenced  to  take  note  of  the  more  clever  juveniles  of  Violante's  theatre. 
Lee  Lewes  says  the  Elrington  brothers,  of  whom  mention  has  already  been 
made,  took  especial  interest  in  little  Peggy :  afforded  her  frequent  entree  to 
their  playhouse,  gave  her  a  serviceable  knowledge  of  the  mechanics  of  acting, 
practiced  her  in  elocution,  and  did  much  to  strengthen  the  child's  growing 
ambition. 

*  Hitchcock's  Irish  Stage,  Vol.  If.- 


(12) 


HER    EARLIEST   PORTRAIT. 


PERIOD    II. 


FROM  LILLIPUT  TO  OPHELIA. 


GNCOURAGED  by  the  Elringtons,  Peggy's  thoughts  of  the  stage  became 
more  definite,  and  Madame  Violante,  wisely  recognizing  the  bent  of 
her  little  protege's  talent,  had  her  instructed  in  such  parts  as  Phillida 
and  others  of  that  kind.  This  favor  was  rewarded  some  time  later  by  Peggy's 
great  success  as  Nell  in  "The  Devil  to  Pay."  In  attempting  this  character 
Peggy  was  much  aided  by  its  author,  Charles  Coffey,  an  ingenious  schoolmaster 
of  Dublin,  the  originator  of  a  great  many  clever  conceits  in  literature.  He 
was  a  poet  of  some  merit  in  his  day,  as  well  as  the  author  and  composer 
of  "The  Beggars'  Wedding,"  an  opera  of  sprightly  humor  and  excellent  music, 
written  in  the  spirit  of  and  as  a  sequel  to  Gay's  work,  but  being  wholly  of 
local  interest  it  was  never  attempted  outside  of  Dublin.  The  fine  comedy 
part  in  "The  Devil  to  Pay"  had  already  largely  helped  to  make  the  reputation 
of  Miss  Raftor,  afterward  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Clive,  yet  Coffey  was  so  gratified 
at  Peggy's  intelligent  study  of  Nell  that  he  declared  she  had  done  as  much 
to   make   the  character  as  he  had. 

He  also  offered  his  services  to  teach  Peggy  every  stroke  of  acting  that 
had  been  applauded  in  Miss  Raftor;  and  the  interest  thus  begun  in  the  young 
actress  led  to  important  results  for  her.  Mr.  Coffey  persuaded  the  elder 
Ellington  (who  was  at  that  time  chief  manager)  to  take  Peggy  into  the  company 
of  the  Theatre  Royal.  Thomas  Elrington*  had  already  entertained  the  idea, 
and  the  engagement  was  soon  made.  In  1733,  Margaret  Woffington,  then 
in   her  fifteenth  year,   was  regularly  engaged  at  the  Aungier  Street  Theatre  as 

*  This  one  of  the  Elrington  brothers  is  said  to  have  alternated  parts  with  Barton  Booth 
at  Drury  Lane.  He  was  noted  for  his  loud  voice  {quite  the  McCuliough  of  his  time,  probably), 
which,  it  is  said,  he  was  quite  boastful  of  as  being  strong  enough  "  to  be  heard  all  over  the 
Blind  Quay,  when,"  as  he  said,  "you  couldn't  hear  Quin  or  Mossop  outside  the  Theatre." 
Tom  Elrington  died  in  1732. 

(13) 


PERIOD  II. 

an  actress  of  the   legitimate    drama,    and    on    February    12th    of    the   following 
year*  appeared   for   the   first   time   on   that  stage  as    Ophelia. 

This  precocity  need  not  astonish  us.  We  have  had  debutantes  in  our 
own  day  who  have  begun  as  stars  at  fifteen,  in  Juliet.  Where  they've  finally 
"brought  up"  I  shall  not  try  to  explore.  In  Woffington's  time  women  were 
still  more  or  less  of  a  novelty  on  the  English  stage,  and  extreme  youth  was 
no  drawback  for  the  new  aspirant  to  dramatic  honors.  Besides,  I  have  no 
doubt,    Peg   at   sixteen   was   a   well-developed  girl. 

Lee  Lewes  tells  us  that  in  the  last  years  of  her  engagement  with 
Violante,  so  valuable  and  popular  did  Peggy  become  that  the  Frenchwoman 
raised  her  salary  frequently,  until  finally  it  reached  the  extraordinary  sum  of 
thirty  shillings  a  week.  Nevertheless,  insignificant  as  the  amount  may  look 
in  our  eyes,  it  was  a  figure  only  reached  by  adult  players  of  positive  ability. 
Peggy  carried  every  penny  of  it  to  her  mother,  and  Hitchcock  tells  us  she 
even  surrendered  to  the  parental  purse  the  extra  douceurs  frequently  thrown 
her  by  her  audiences  when  she  had  executed  sometimes  more  gracefully  than 
at  others  a  favorite   step  in   her  dances. 

The  Theatre  Royal  engagement  did  not  increase  Peg's  salary.  But 
under  the  judicious  management  and  care  of  the  surviving  Elringtons  she 
gained  a  great  deal  of  experience  in  the  drama  and  a  better  knowledge  of 
her  art.  While  still  under  eighteen,  Peg  was  cast  for  old  women's  characters, 
such  as  Mrs.  Peachum,  and  Mother  Midnight  in  Farquhar's  "Twin  Rivals," 
in  addition   to  other  parts   that  called  for  humor  in  the  performance  of  them.-f- 

Her  stay  at  the  Theatre  Royal  was,  however,  but  a  short  one.  Mr.  John 
Ward,  the  grandfather  of  the  future  Kembles  and  Siddons,  after  the  demise 
of  the  elder  Elrington,  had  come  into  some  authority  over  the  theatre.  He 
was  an  overbearing  and  peevish  old  gentleman,  and  Peg's  temper  was  not 
of  the  sort  that  could  brook  unreasonable  interference  with  her  duties.  She 
had  a  quarrel  with  Mr.  Ward  about  some  slight  business  of  the  stage,  and 
at   the  first   honorable  opportunity  left   the   theatre   to  join  a  set  of  actors  who 

*  Woffington's  debut  as  Ophelia  has  been  set  down  by  others  as  not  occurring  until 
1737.  But  the  Aungier  Street  house  was  at  that  time  quite  in  disuse.  Fashion  had  again 
set  in  favor  of  the  new  Smock  Alley  theatre,  which  replaced  the  old  concern  in  1735. 

t  Lee  Lewes'  Memoirs.  v 

(H) 


FROM  LILLIPUT  TO   OPHELIA. 

called  themselves  the  "  Commonwealth."  This  new  organization  had  hired  the 
Rainsford  Street  Theatre,  previously  vacated  by  Madame  Violante,  and  for  a 
time  they  had  some  promise  of  success.  There  were  a  number  of  talented 
actors  in  it,  including  Isaac  and  Luke  Sparks,  John  Barrington  and  Michael 
Dyer,    all   of  whom   afterward   achieved   distinction   on    the   London   stage. 

It  was  now,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  that  Margaret  Wofnngton  began  to 
unfold  those  charms  and  reveal  those  graces  through  which,  for  so  many  succeed- 
ing years,  she  enthralled  mankind.  In  her  face  the  cold  symmetry  of  a  regularity 
of  feature  gave  way  to  liveliness  of  expression  and  the  sparkle  of  animation. 
She  was  possessed  of  the  tempting  beauty  of  eye  and  mouth,  the  glowing 
health,  the  flashing  wit,  the  sprightly  humor  and  the  quick  intelligence  of  the 
native   born   Irish   girl. 

Probably  none  of  the  portraits  painted  of  her  by  contemporaneous 
artists,  famous  or  obscure,  render  absolute  justice  to  the  charms  of  Wofnng- 
ton. In  most  of  them,  indeed,  and  especially  in  Hogarth's  painting  of  her  as 
Sir  Harry  Wildair,  we  may  discover  the  dreamy  yet  laughing  black  eyes, 
with  their  gracefully  pencilled  arched  brows,  the  aquiline  and  delicately 
moulded  nose,  the  well  rounded  coquettish  chin;  the  pouting  witchery  of  the 
ever-parted  lips,  the  wonderful  lithe  and  willowy  figure,  the  slender  hand  and 
taper  fingers,  for  which  she  was  noted.  She  wore  her  hair  without  powder, 
brushed  carelessly  back  to  expose  the  white  forehead,  nearly  always  with  a  cap 
thrown  gracefully  on  her  head,  or  a  little  flat  garden  hat  worn  negligently,  as 
we  see  her  in  most  of  the  mezzotints  of  John  Faber,  of  Michael  Jackson  and  of 
James  McArdell.  Even  these  copied  likenesses  in  black  and  white  show  us 
a  face  that  is  most  interesting  if  not  handsome,  a  roguish  coquetry  with  a 
look  of  merriment  animating  the  calm  repose  of  features.  But  contemporary 
writers  tell  us  there  was  a  charm  of  loveliness  in  the  personality  of  Margaret 
Woffington,  and  a  fascinating  beauty  in  her  expression,  that  were  beyond  the 
painter's  or  the  graver's  art. 

Hitchcock  writes  that  her  radiant  intelligence,  her  sparkling  repartee, 
her  exquisite  grace,  her  delightful  archness  of  demeanor,  were  qualities  that 
rivalled  the  loveliness   of  her  face.* 

*  HitchcocVs  Irish  Stage,  Vol.  I,  p.  ioj. 

<*5) 


PERIOD  II. 

Murphy  says  that,  unconscious  of  the  impression  her  beauty  produced, 
her  ease  was  unrivalled.* 

Lee  Lewes  tells  us  that,  though  coming  from  the  humblest  rank  in 
society,  she  carried  herself  with  an  air,  and  portrayed  the  elegance  and  hauteur 
of  a  great  lady  with  a  naturalness  that  folks  of  good  family  did  not  disdain 
to  imitate.f 

We  may  read  in  the  History  of  Clubs  (i  751-4)  that  her  appearance 
on  the  stage  was  not  so  much  a  triumph  of  art  as  it  was  a  revelation  of 
nature :  "  She  lent  a  fresh  charm  to  the  drama  by  presenting  in  it  the  witchery 
that  was  instinctive  to  herself,  and  added  new  graces  to  the  poet's  fancy  by 
joining  to  them  those   of  her  own." 

And  in  what  particular  charm  of  her  sex  did  not  Woffington  become 
supreme, — this  street  waif,  this  bricklayer's  daughter,  with  her  Irish  verve,  her 
inimitable  gracefulness,  her  coquettish  manner,  her  brilliancy  of  conversation ! 
This  seller  of  water-cress,  who  developed  into  the  finest  of  fine  ladies,  whose 
carriage  and  dignity  were  nearly  perfect,  whose  loveliness  of  face  and  liveli- 
ness  of  wit  were   unimpeachable ! 

Perhaps  I  may  be  deemed  premature  in  referring  at  this  period  of  her 
life  to  these  things.  But  those  who  have  written  most  intimately  of  her  tell  us 
that  even  while  yet  a  girl  she  began  to  set  the  fashion  for  the  town  in  gowns, 
in   manners,   and  in   the   pretty  uses  of  the   fan. 

Although  we  are  told  that  Margaret  Woffington  advanced  rapidly  in 
public  favor,  there  is  no  intimation  by  any  of  the  writers  that  she  was  unduly 
elated  over  her  popularity.  Her  sex  would  have  excused  a  certain  amount  of 
vanity  as  the  result  of  the  compliments  her  acting  received;  yet,  although  she 
had  gained  a  sudden  eminence  solely  through  her  own  efforts,  which  was 
enough  to  turn  any  young  person's  head,  Woffington  seems  to  have  displayed 
more  good  common  sense  than  is  given  to  many  of  her  sex  who  achieve  suc- 
cesses on  the  stage.  She  remained  affable  and  free  toward  her  friends, 
conscientious    and    diligent    in    her    study,    faithful    to    her    engagements,    and 

*  Murphf  s  Life  of  Garrick,   Vol.  I,  p.  35. 

f  Memoirs  Lee  Lewes,  Vol.  II.  v 

(16) 


FROM  LILLIPUT  TO    OPHELIA. 

preserved  her  good  humor,  sincerity  and  agreeable  manners  with  all.  So 
much  we  learn  from  Davies  in  his  Life  of  Garrick ;  and  he  is  endorsed  by 
a  writer   in   the   European    Magazine   of   1795. 

Lee  Lewes  adds  that  she  continued  to  perform  characters  of  fine  comedy 
with  a  simplicity  of  air  that  was  as  novel  on  the  stage  at  that  day  as  it 
was  natural  to  herself.  She  was  refined,  pleasing  and  artless  in  her  methods, 
without  making  any  effort  to  attain  these  delightful  qualities.  The  early  training 
of  Madame  Violante  had  made  Peggy  a  dancer  of  extreme  grace,  and,  although 
she  had  not  a  voice  of  much  power,  she  sang  with  a  great  amount  of 
expression.  She  was  naturally  proud  of  her  perfect  figure,  and,  following  the 
taste  and  freedom  natural  to  the  ladies  of  her  day,  she  was  not  averse  to 
display  the  shapeliness  of  her  form,  and  hence  we  find  her  choosing  the  part 
of  Sylvia  in  "  The  Recruiting  Officer  "  for  her  first  benefit,  and  coming  voluntarily 
before  the  public  in  a  masculine  garb,  that  served  to  show  off  her  free  and 
graceful  carriage  to  the  best  advantage.  Her  favorite  characters,  and  those  in 
which   she   made   her    greatest   successes,   were   of  this   order. 

It  is  evident  that  her  quarrel  with  the  Theatre  Royal  was  of  short  dura- 
tion, and  that  she  made  up  her  disagreement  with  Mr.  Ward;  for  we  discover 
her  on  the  25th  April,  1 738,  announced  to  perform  at  a  benefit  given  in  favor 
of  that  old  gendeman,  when  she  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  as  Sir 
Harry  Wildair  in  "The  Constant  Couple,"  a  character  which  she  interpreted 
with  a  spirit  so  distinctively  her  own  that  it  has  ever  since  been  associated 
with  the  memory    of    Peg  Woffington. 

Doran  relates  that  she  so  enraptured  one  immature  damsel  by  her  per- 
formance of  Sir  Harry,  that  the  young  lady,  believing  her  actually  to  be  a 
man,  made  "him"  an  offer  of  marriage.  It  is  very  likely  that  Woffington 
may  have  had  some  such  experience ;  but  the  real  heroine  of  a  similar 
episode  was  the  reckless  and  unfortunate  Charlotte  Charke,  the  youngest 
daughter  of  Colley  Cibber,  who  actually  spent  nearly  half  her  life  habited  in 
men's  habiliments — having  renamed  herself  "Mr.  Brown," — and  under  that  name 
became  a  gendeman's  valet,  a  pastry  cook,  opened,  first  a  huckster  shop,  then 
a  puppet  show,  and  finally  went  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  a  strolling 
player  in  men's  guise ;   and  in  the  latter  phase  of  her  career  she  actually  won 

3  (17) 


PERIOD  II. 

the  heart  of  a  young  lady  of  great  fortune  who  intended  to  marry  her  until 
"Mr.  Brown's"  companions  betrayed  her  sex.  No  memoir  of  the  last  century 
is  more  replete  with  romance  and  misery  than  that  of  this  unfortunate  woman, 
who  more  than  once  acknowledges  with  grateful  praise  her  indebtedness  to 
Mrs.   Woffington   for  generous  assistance  in   her  hours  of  direst  need. 

Last  of  her  sire  in  dotage — she  was  used 

By  him,  as  children  use  a  fav'rite  toy: 
Indulg'd,  neglected,  fondled,  and  abus'd, 

As  quick  affection  or  capricious  joy, 
Or  sudden  humor  of  dislike  dictated : 

Thoughdessly  rear'd,  she  led  a  thoughtless  life; 
And  she  so  well  beloved  became  most  hated; 

A  helpless  mother,  and  a  wife  unblest, 
She  passed  precocious  womanhood  in  strife; 

Or,  in  strange  hiding  places,  without  rest ; — 
Or,  wand'ring  in  disquietude  for  bread: 

Her  father's  curse — himself  first  cause  of  all 

That  caused  his  ban — sunk  her  in  deeper  thrall, 
Stifling  her  heart,  till  sorrow  and  herself  were  dead.* 

So  high  an  admiration  was  aroused  by  Woffington  through  her  perform- 
ance of  Sir  Harry,  that  it  was  a  leading  theme  of  conversation  in  Dublin  society 
for  some  time  after  her  first  appearance  in  the  part,  and  no  one  was  looked 
upon  as  being  a  la  mode,  who  had  not  witnessed  her  famous  impersonation 
of  the  rakish  Wildair.  During  the  run  of  the  piece  the  following  verses 
were  published  in  a  popular  magazine.  The  reference  in  them  to  "Polly" 
applies  to  the  character  in  "The  Beggars'  Opera"  in  which,  as  I  have  already 
written,  Woffington  had  gained  her  earliest  success.  They  were  addressed  to 
"Miss    Woffington   Playing  Sir  Harry    Wildair": 

Peggy,  the  darling  of  the  town ! 

In  Polly  won  each  heart; 
But  now  she  captivates  again, 

And  all  must  feel  the  smart. 

Her  charm,  resistless,  conquers  all — 

Both  sexes  vanquished  lie, 
And  who  to  Polly  scorned  to  fall, 

By   Wildair,  ravaged,  die. 

*  The  Table  Book. 

(18) 


FROM  LILLIPUT  TO   OPHELIA. 

Would  lavish  nature,  who  her  gave 

This  double  pow'r  to  please, 
In  Pity  give  her  both  to  save 

A  double  power  to  ease. 

Numerous  other  verses  were  written  in  praise  of  Wildair  by  wits  of 
the  town.      Among  them   these  lines — 

That  excellent  Peg! 

Who  showed  such  a  leg 
When  lately  she  dressed  in  man's  clothes — 

A  creature  uncommon, 

Who's  both  man  and  woman 
And  the  chief  of  the  belles  and  the  beaux !  * 

The  girlhood  whose  magnetism  and  beauty  fascinated  those  who  came 
within  the  circle  of  its  influence,  was  not  itself  insensible  to  love.  Peg  Woffing- 
ton  had  for  some  time  been  receiving  with  favor  the  attentions  of  a  young 
gentleman  of  good  family  in  Dublin,  and  we  are  told  was,  in  1738,  engaged 
to  be  married  to  him.  He  was  but  the  younger  son  of  a  gentleman  whose 
estate  adjoined  the  city,  but  made  up  in  good  looks  what  he  lacked  in  purse. 
Woffington,  not  yet  out  of  her  'teens,  became  quite  infatuated  with  him.  Her 
warm,  impulsive,  Irish  nature  was  loyal  to  her  betrothed  and  full  of  faith  in  his 
loyalty  toward  her.  The  young  gentleman,  however,  appears  to  have  been 
unworthy  of  the  trust.  He  soon  grew  weary  of  mere  affection.  Being  a  younger 
son  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  marry  money.  His  father  insisted  that  the 
affair  with  Woffington  was  only  an  incident  in  the  life  of  a  man  of  fashion,  and 
must  be  broken  off.  In  obedience  to  this  parental  command,  Peg's  affianced 
coolly  contracted  another  engagement  with  a  young  heiress  to  an  excellent 
estate. 

We  can  well  imagine  that  when  Woffington  became  possessed  of  the 
facts  of  her  lover's  perfidy  her  rage  had  no  bounds.  A  vindictiveness  most 
natural  to  her  sex,  and  not  at  all  unnatural  to  her  nationality,  took  possession 
of  her  usually  gentle  and  cheerful  disposition.  Legend  is  quite  rife  with  her 
name  and  her  actions    at    this    momentous   period  of   her  life,  when   smarting 

*  Theatrical  Magazine,   Vol.  I,  page  129. 

(19) 


PERIOD  II 

under  the  first  wrong  a  young  girl's  heart  can  feel.  It  is  said  that  she  left 
the  stage  for  a  while.  Kept  within  her  house.  Banished  all  friendships  from 
her  heart.  Would  see  nobody.  And  for  a  time,  despair  wresded,  with  fate 
and  fame,  over  her  determination  to  cast  off  forever  every  interest  in  public 
favor  or  professional   triumph. 

A  pamphlet  printed  after  her  death,  and  quoted  from  by  a  writer  in 
the  Dublin  Review  of  August,  1864,  gives  us  a  very  plausible  sequel  to 
this   affair. 

As  the  prospective  wedding  of  her  faithless  fiance  drew  near,  it  is  said 
Woffington  resolved  on  a  plan  of  revenge  that  was  as  original  as  it  was  effec- 
tive. Habiting  herself  as  an  officer  of  the  army,*  and  attended  by  a  friend 
who  personated  her  valet,  she  visited  the  village  near  which  her  rival's 
country  seat  was  situated.  A  ball  was  given  by  the  young  woman's  parents 
in  honor  of  the  approaching  marriage.  To  this  Woffington  contrived  to  obtain 
an  invitation.  Thoroughly  disguised  with  mustache  and  other  devices  of  the 
stage,  she  carried  her  assumed  character  so  well  that  she  passed  unrecog- 
nized even  by  her  perfidious  lover,  who  even  expressed  a  desire  for  her  better 
acquaintance.  With  the  rest  of  the  company  she  was  equally  successful.  Peg, 
in  short,  made  herself  so  extremely  popular  that  she  had  the  honor  of  walking 
a  minuet  with  the  bride-elect  before  the  evening  was  far  advanced.  She  made 
such  good  use  of  this  opportunity  that  before  the  dance  was  over  she  had 
informed  her  rival  of  the  young  gentleman's  amour  with  an  actress  called 
Woffington,  and  later  in  the  evening  gave  further  revelations  of  his  true 
character  to  the  expectant  bride  by  showing  a  number  of  his  love-letters  con- 
taining protestations  of  eternal  fidelity  to  the  player  in  Dublin.  This  clever 
scheme,  it  is  said,  worked  most  admirably.  The  young  gentleman's  fiancee 
renounced  him  with  indignation,  and  some  chroniclers  of  the  episode  state  that 
she  transferred  her  affections  to  the  dashing  officer  who  had  warned  her  in  such 
timely  season.  This  last,  however,  reads  too  much  like  the  romance  which  I 
have  already  quoted  from  Doran.  But  the  fact  remains  that  Woffington 
accomplished  a  severe  and  triumphant  revenge  on  the  man  who  had  deceived  her. 

*  Probably  using  her  costume  ^"Captain  Pinch"  in"  The  Recruiting  Officer." 

(20) 


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PERIOD   III. 


FROM  AUNGIER  STREET  TO   COVENT  GARDEN. 


THE  year  following  the  preceding  incident  found  Margaret  Woffington 
in  London.  Various  causes  are  offered  for  Peggy's  departure  from 
Dublin.     I  confess  I  am  puzzled  as  to  which  we  should  give  most  credit. 

It  is  said  that  in  a  frenzy  of  pique  at  discovering  the  heartless  perfidy 
of  her  first  sweetheart,  she  accepted  the  attentions  of  another  suitor,  and  yield- 
ing to  his  tempting  picture  of  brighter  and  better  times,  and,  above  all,  "  forget- 
fulness"  in  the  gaieties  of  the  Metropolis,  that  she  peremptorily  terminated  her 
engagement  at  the  Aungier  Street  Theatre  and  took  passage  for  London. 
It  has  also  been  attempted  to  identify  the  companion  of  her  flight  (it  seems 
to  have  been  a  flight)  from  Dublin  with  the  very  gentleman  to  whom  she  had 
first  given  her  virgin  heart,  and  whom  she  had  reconquered  from  her  rival 
(after  the   adventure   related  at  the   close  of  the   previous   chapter). 

Some  writers  ignore  the  episode  referred  to  altogether,  and  state  that 
while  performing  at  the  Aungier  Street  Theatre  she  had  captured  the  affections 
of  a  young  gentleman  named  Coffey,  the  younger  son  of  one  of  the  gentry 
of  the  Irish  capital ;  *  that  she,  too,  had  fallen  over  head  and  out  of  reason 
in  love  with  him  ;  that  fame  and  fortune  became  secondary  considerations  (as 
they  always  will  in  these  cases  of  very  youthful  love),  and  that  they  eloped 
together  and  started,  unknown  to  everybody,  for  other  scenes.  Whichever 
page  we  turn  the  chroniclers  give  her  a  lover  for  companion   in   her  journey 

*  Possibly  the  young  author  of  "The  Devil  to  Pay"   who  has  been   noted  as  taking  a 
deep  interest  in  Iter  earliest  histrionic  efforts.      He  died  in  London  some  years  later. 

(21) 


PERIOD  III. 

to  London.  And  yet  it  is  quite  singular  that  we  lose  all  traces  of  this  gentle- 
man after  her  arrival  there.  He  never  crops  up  again — anywhere.  It  would 
not  be  unnatural,  therefore,  to  suppose  that  there  was  no  lover  whatever  in 
the  case,  and  that  if  her  companion  was  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  he  was 
merely  a  friend,  or  perhaps  one  of  those  platonic  heroes  with  whom  most 
actresses  are  blessed,  or  cursed,  during  their  lives, — who  are  willing  to  serve 
their  goddesses  blindly,  often  foolishly,  and  who  are  the  last  persons  in  the 
world  to  oppose  calm  counsel  or  worldly  prudence  to  the  womanish  freaks 
or  fancies  of   those   to  whom    they   have  become   the  bounden   slaves. 

But  I  am  inclined  to  believe  there  was  no  such  companion ;  and  I  dis- 
cover a  more  reasonable  cause  for  her  departure  from  Dublin  in  the  fact  that 
during  the  season  of  1739-40,  for  three  months,  all  the  theatres  were  closed  in 
Ireland  on  account  of  the  famine  which  afflicted  that  country,  produced  by  the 
phenomenally  early  and  severe  winter  of  1739.  Finding  occupation  and 
revenue  closed  to  her  in  her  own  country,  what  more  natural  than  to  suppose 
her  seeking  both   in   another. 

That  Woffington's  departure  from  Dublin  was  sudden  there  seems  to  be 
no  question.  There  are  also  grounds  for  supposing  that  she  offended  many 
people  by  the  rupture  of  her  relations  with  the  Theatre  Royal,  and  when 
two  or  three  seasons  later  we  find  her  back  again  in  Ireland,  she  does  not 
return   to   the  Aungier  Street  Theatre,  but  to   the  Smock   Alley  house. 

I  have  seen  it  hinted  that  Woffington  had  made  an  earlier  visit  to 
England,  and  that  she  had  played  in  London,  when  a  child,  at  the  little 
theatre  in  the  Haymarket.  This,  I  think,  is  stated  more  as  an  inference  than 
from  any  positive  or  known  fact.  Advertisements  of  Madame  Violante  and 
her  Lilliputians  as  acting  at  the  Haymarket  in  London  are  quoted  as  proof 
of  Woffington's  previous  visit.  It  is  more  than  likely,  however,  that  if  this  had 
been  the  case  the  remarkable  talent  which  had  caused  her  to  be  picked  out  by 
Dublin  audiences  as  the  object  of  special  praises  and  favors,  would  not  have 
passed  entirely  unrecognized  by  the  London  public,  who  have  ever  been 
most  jusdy  credited  with  a  unique  gift  in  detecting  positive  talent,  and  in 
separating  the   real   from   the   false   in  art.  v  v 

(22) 


FROM  AUNGIER  STREET  TO  CO  VENT  GARDEN. 

One  fact  is  positively  known,  however,  that  Wofifington  found  herself 
in  the  Metropolis  (when  she  arrived  after  her  hurried  departure  from  Dublin) 
without  an  engagement.  It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  she  believed  her 
reputation  and  popularity  in  the  Irish  capital  had  preceded  her,*  and  that 
she  would  not  experience  any  very  great  difficulty  in  renewing  her  relations 
with  the  theatre.  She  first  applied  to  Christopher  Rich,  the  manager  of  Covent 
Garden.  At  that  time  the  see-saw  of  public  favor,  rocking  between  Covent 
Garden  and  Drury  Lane,  had  sent  the  latter  to  the  ground  and  had  lifted 
its  rival  house  to  the  airy  eminence.  Rich  at  this  period  had  grown  to  be 
quite  an  important  creature.  His  great  good  luck  in  the  production  of  Gay's 
"Beggars'  Opera,"  which  had  made  (as  the  wits  of  the  day  said)  "Rich  gay 
and  Gay  rich,"  had  possibly  over-elated  the  fortunate  manager,  and  it  is  said 
that  at  this  juncture  of  his  career  he  was  "at  home"  to  nobody  under  a 
baronet. 

Ignorant  or  indifferent  to  all  this,  and  quite  self-confident  of  her  own 
worth,  Wofifington  boldly  went  to  Rich's  office  and  asked  to  see  him.  Stage 
porters  in  those  days  were  quite  as  obdurate  as  in  our  own,  and  faithful 
guardians  of  the  stage  door  in  the  Eighteenth  Century  were  quite  as  insuscept- 
ible to  bribes  or  beauty  as  they  are  in  the  Nineteenth.  Wofifington  made 
eighteen  visits  to  Covent  Garden  before  Rich  received  her.  We  have  no  sten- 
ographic report  of  the  interview,  but  if  Peggy's  temper  and  tongue  may  be 
measured  by  those  of  the  stage-door  applicants  within  my  experience,  Rich  must 
have  had  a  poor  time  of  it  on  that  eventful  morning  when  Peggy  finally  got 
word  with  him. 

A  writer  in  the  Dublin  Review  has  pictured  very  graphically  this  first 
meeting. 

"The  great  manager,  as  Wofifington  first  saw  him,  was  lolling  in  ungrace- 
ful ease  on  a  sofa,  holding  a  play  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a  tea- 
cup, from  which  he  sipped  frequently.  Around  about  him  were  seven  and 
twenty  cats  of   all   sizes,   colors  and  kinds.     Toms  and  Tabbies,   old  cats  and 

*  Chetwood,  p.  252.      Dairies'   Life  of  Garrick,    Vol.   I,  p.  J41. 

(23) 


PERIOD  III. 

kittens,  tortoise  shells,  Maltese,  brindles,  white,  black  and  yellow  cats  of  every 
description.  Some  were  frisking  over  the  floor,  others  asleep  on  the  rug; 
one  was  licking  the  buttered  toast  on  his  breakfast  plate,  another  was  engaged 
in  drinking  the  cream  for  his  tea,  two  cats  lay  on  his  knee,  one  was  asleep 
on  his  shoulder,  and  another  sat  demurely  on  his  head.  Peg  WofHngton  was 
astounded  at  the  sight.  Rich  to  her  mind  had  for  years  been  the  greatest 
man  in  the  world.  The  menagerie  of  grimalkins,  amid  which  he  lay  so  care- 
lessly, was  so  different  an  environment  from  her  conception  of  the  study  of  the 
Co  vent  Garden  theatre  manager,  that  she  was  embarrassed  into  silence.  Rich, 
in  his  turn,  was  equally  confused  by  the  beauty  of  his  visitor,  and  lay  staring 
at  her  for  a  long  time  before  he  recollected  his  courtesy  and  offered  her  a 
chair.  Standing  before  him  was  a  woman  whom  he  afterward  declared  to 
be  the  loveliest  creature  he  had  ever  seen.  She  was  taller  than  the  ordinary 
standard  of  height,  faultless  in  form,  dignified  even  to  majesty,  yet  withal  win- 
some and  piquant.  Her  dark  hair,  unstained  by  powder,  fell  in  luxuriant 
wealth  over  her  neck  and  shoulders.  '  It  was  a  fortunate  thing  for  my  wife,' 
said  Rich  in  afterwards  recounting  the  scene  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  'that 
I  was  not  of  a  susceptible  temperament.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  I  should 
have  found  it  difficult  to  retain  my  equanimity  enough  to  arrange  business 
negotiations  with  the  amalgamated  Calypso,  Circe  and  Armida  who  dazzled  my 
eyes.  A  more  fascinating  daughter  of  Eve  never  presented  herself  to  a 
manager  in  search  of  rare  commodities.  She  was  as  majestic  as  Juno,  as 
lovely  as   Venus,  and  as   fresh  and  charming  as   Hebe.' " 

Mrs.  Bellamy,  the  mother  of  the  fair  one  of  that  name  of  later  fame, 
was  a  member  of  the  Covent  Garden  company  when  Margaret  Woffington 
joined  it;  she  had  been  there  for  a  couple  of  seasons.  She  was  also  a 
member  of  the  Aungier  Street  house  when  Woffington  first  entered  that 
company.  The  subsequent  rivalry  of  the  two  daughters  had  not  then  separated 
the  families  of  Bellamy  and  Woffington,  and  we  may  imagine  a  friendly  greeting 
between  the  elder  and  the  younger  woman  as  they  found  themselves  again  on 
the  same  stage.  I  also  find  the  name  of  Hallam  in  the  Covent  Garden 
company  when  Woffington  entered   it;   he   wasv  playing  Such  parts  as   Laertes; 


FROM  AUNGIER  STREET  TO   CO  VENT  GARDEN. 

it  was,  doubtless,  the  same  Hallatn  who  brought  to  New  York  a  company 
of  English  actors  which  played  here  in  1752,  and  at  intervals  for  twenty  or 
thirty  years  after. 

The  season  of  1740  and  1741  at  Covent  Garden  began  on  the  19th  of 
September.  Our  heroine  did  not  make  her  debut  until  November  the  6th 
(1740).*  The  play  was  Farquhar's  "Recruiting  Officer,"  and  the  debutante 
played  the  part  of  Sylvia,  in  which  she  had  been  so  successful  in  Dublin. 
She  was  announced  as  Miss  Woffington  on  the  opening  bill ;  but  in  every  sub- 
sequent announcement  she  is  called  Mrs.  Woffington.  It  was  the  fash  on 
and  habit  of  the  time.  Of  course  she  had  not  been  married  between  the 
two  performances,  as  the  relative  terms  might  suggest ;  the  title  "  Miss "  being 
given  to  very  young  gentlewomen.f  and  "  Mistress "  to  grown-up  unmarried 
ladies.  In  this  case  the  "Miss"  was  the  last  relic  of  Peg's  lilliputian  career. 
The   full   cast  of  this   eventful   evening  may   not  be   out  of  place   here. 

CAPTAIN  PLUME  ....  RYAN. 

CAPTAIN  BRAZEN      ....  CIBBER,  Jr. 

JUSTICE  BALANCE  .  .  .      BRIDGEWATER. 

SERGEANT  KITE ROSCO. 

Mr.  WORTHY HALE. 

BULLOCK     ......  NEALE. 

ist  RECRUIT  ....  HIPPERSLY. 

MELINDA    "  .  .  .  .        Mrs.  WARE. 

ROSE Mrs.  VINCENT. 

LUCY Mrs.  KILLEY. 

SYLVIA  ....  Miss  WOFFINGTON. 

She  repeated  the  part  on  November  8th  (when  the  Miss  was  altered 
to  Mrs.  on  the  bills),  and  on  the  10th,  nth,  19th  of  that  month,  and  fre- 
quently, later  in  the  season.  It  was  a  wise  selection,  for  the  opening  scenes 
of  Sylvia  are   tender  and   womanly  enough,  and  coquettish  withal ;   while  in  the 

*  Geneste.      (Davies  makes  the  date   i?j8.      Hitclicock  makes  it  i^jp.     But  Geneste 
gives  us  the  bill  of  the  night  and  finally  fixes  the  date.) 
f  "  Under  the  age  often." — Todd. 

4  (25) 


PERIOD  III. 

later  acts,  as  the  town  swell  or  the  rakish  officer,  the  part  affords  an  actress 
of  versatile  powers,  such  as  Woffington  afterward  displayed,  varied  oppor- 
tunities to  indicate  their  presence.  At  all  events,  Chetwood,  the  old  prompter 
of  Drury  Lane,  informs  us  that  our  heroine  at  once  established  herself,  by 
this  performance,  in  London  as  firmly  as  she  had  in  Dublin.  She  at  once 
became  quite  the  rage  in  the  Metropolis,  but  we  are  told  that  at  this  period 
of  her  career  the  pleasure  of  society  had  little  charms  for  her,  and  she 
devoted  herself  entirely  to  her  stage  duties.  A  great  many  verses  were 
addressed  to  her  in   the  public  prints,  and  among  others  the  following: 

TO  MISS  WOFFINGTON 

on  her  playing  the  part  of  "  Sylvia." 

When  first  in  petticoats  you  trod  the  stage, 
Our  sex  with  love  you  fired:    your  own  with  rage; 
In  breeches  next,  so  well  you  played  the  cheat — 
The  pretty  fellow  and  the    rake  complete — 
Each  sex  was  then  with  different  passions  moved : 
The  men   grew  envious  and  the  women  loved ! 

Woffington's  second  character  at  Covent  Garden  was  Lady  Sadlife  in 
"The  Double  Gallant,"  which  she  acted  on  the  13th  of  November.  Her  next 
was  Aura  in  "Country  Lasses,"  in  which  the  heroine  goes  into  disguise,  in 
men's  apparel,  and  then,  on  the  21st  of  November,  the  "Constant  Couple" 
was  produced  with  ("  by  particular  desire,"  so  the  official  announcements  ran) 
Sir  Harry  Wildair  by  Mrs.  Woffington,  a  part  which  she  ever  afterward  held 
as  her  own  against  all  rivals — even  Garrick  himself,  who  played  it  two  or 
three  times  only,  when  he  and  Woffington  were  acting  together  at  Drury  Lane. 

Wildair  had  never  before  been  acted  by  a  woman.  It  had,  indeed, 
been  in  disuse  since  the  death  of  Robert  Wilks,  who  was  the  creator 
of  the  part  and  for  years  the  only  representative  of  the  character.  Estcourt, 
whom  the  old  prompter  Downes  called  Histrio  nalus,  attempted  the 
part;  but  notwithstanding  his  rare  graces,  and  natural  gifts,  made  no 
reputation     in     it.      Woffington      acted      Wildair     with     an     ease,      a     grace, 

(26) 


FROM  AUNGIER  STREET  TO  CO  VENT  GARDEN. 

an  elegance  and  propriety,  that  both  Davies  and  Hitchcock  (who  quote  even 
others)  proclaim  that  no  male  actor  ever  equaled  her  in.  She  acted  the  part 
twenty  times  the  first  season,  and,  indeed,  had  now  established  herself  so 
strongly  in  public  favor  that  but  few  bills  were  thereafter  offered  in  which 
her  name  did  not  appear. 

Woffington  was  at  this  time  in  the  2  2d  year  of  her  age.  All  her  judges 
confessed,  after  her  first  performance  of  "The  Constant  Couple,"  that  it  was 
reserved  for  this  young  woman  not  only  to  surpass  the  skill  of  Wilks  in 
Sir  Harry  Wildair,  but  to  lend  to  the  character  an  exquisite  delicacy,  a  sparkle 
and  vigor  that  went  beyond  the  author's  warmest  hopes  *  The  reputation  which 
Mrs.  Woffington  had  enjoyed  for  her  Sylvia  was  so  much  enhanced  by  this 
second  performance  that  she  at  once  became  the  reigning  toast  in  the  clubs, 
and  her  entrances  on  the  stage  were  the  signal  for  so  much  applause  that  she 
had  to  pause  in  her  speeches  frequently  in  order  to  secure  a  silence  that  would 
do  them  justice.  It  was  universally  admitted  that  the  representation  of  the  gay, 
good-natured,  dissipated  and  generous  rake  of  fashion  suited  her  powers  most 
admirably,  and  that  she  not  only  lent  to  the  character  an  ease  of  deportment 
and  an  elegance  of  carriage  that  made  Wildair  a  natural  and  delightful  piece 
of  comedy,  but,  as  I  have  said,  displayed  many  tokens  of  vigor  and  spirit 
that  seemed  beyond   the   reach  of  womanhood. 

Again  was  Woffington  the  subject  of  the  verse-makers,  and  the  following, 
it  is  said,  caused  her  much  amusement.  It  was  written  on  the  blank  page 
of  a  book   belonging   to   Davies,   the   biographer   of  Garrick. 


To    MISS    WOFFINGTON,    1740. 

If  when  the   Breast  is  rent  with   Pain, 

It  be  no  crime  the  Nymph  should   know  it- 

Oh,   Woffington !    accept  the  strain, 

Pity,  though  you'll   not  cure,   the   Poet. 


*  Hitchcock. 

0*7) 


PERIOD  III. 

Should   you    reject   my   ardent   prayer, 

Yet  send   not  back  the  amorous   Paper: 

My   pangs   may   help   to   curl    your    Hair : 
My  passion   fringe  the  glowing  Taper. 

No  more  the  Theatre   I  seek 

But  when   I'm    promised   there   to   find   you ; 
All    Horton's   merits   now   grow   weak, 

And   Clive   remains   far,   far   behind   you. 

'Tis   thus   the   polished    Pebble   plays 

And   gains   awhile   some   vulgar   praises, 

But   soon  withdraws   its   feeble   rays 

When   the   superior   Diamond   blazes. 

Who   sees   you   shine   in    Wildair's  part, 
But   sudden    feels   his   bosom   panting; 

Your  very   sex   receives   the   Dart 

And   almost   thinks   there's   nothing   wanting. 


The  performance  made  her,  in  short,  the  "rage"  of  the  town.  Everybody 
had  to  see  her.  Everybody  who  was  anybody  did  see  her.  The  Cherokee 
chiefs  who  were  then  visiting  England  in  state,  joined  the  enraptured  throng  of 
admirers,  and  declared  that  the  only  thing  she  lacked  to  make  her  a  perfect 
woman   was — a  copper  skin ! 

Woffington's  first  season  ended  on  the  15th  of  May,  when  she  acted 
Violante  in  the  "Double  Falsehood"  and  delivered  the  original  epilogue,  and 
then  emphasized  her  consummate  art  in  one  of  the  most  trying  ordeals  of 
the  stage — the  graceful  delivery  of  an  Epilogue  or  Prologue.  She  had  also 
acted  during  this  season  Elvira  in  the  "  Spanish  Fryar,"  Victoria  in  the 
"Fatal  Marriage,"  Florella  in  "Greenwich  Park,"  Phyllis  in  the  "Conscious 
Lovers,"  Angelica  in  the  "Gamester,"  Cherry  in  the  "Beaux  Stratagem,"  and 
for  the  benefit  of  Chetwood  (who  had  been  prompter  at  Drury  Lane  and 
was  now  a  prisoner  in  the  King's  Bench)  she  acted  Leetitia  in  "The  Old 
Bachelor,"  with  Colley  Cibber  as  Fondlewife,  her  first  time  of  acting  with  the 
famous  apologist  for  his  own  life ;  his  book  at  that  time  having  just  been 
printed.  « 

(a8) 


FROM  AUNGIER  STREET  TO  CO  VENT  GARDEN. 

But,  though  Woffington  was  admired  in  everything  which  she  acted, 
Sylvia  and    Wildair  were  the   exceptional   triumphs  of  that  season. 

Her  variety  in  these  parts  and  the  cleverness  with  which  she  assumed 
them  made    her    performances  most  attractive   to  London. 

"It  was  admitted  by  the  best  critics,"  says  Macklin,  "that  Peg  Woffing- 
ton represented  the  gay,  good-humored,  dissipated  rake  of  fashion  with  an  ease 
and  elegance  of  deportment  that  seemed  almost  out  of  the  reach  of  female 
accomplishments,  and  her  fame  flew  about  the  town  with  such  rapidity  that 
the  comedies  she  appeared  in  had  each  a  run  and  proved  a  considerable 
addition  to  the  treasury."* 

"The  house  was  crowded  nighdy,"  says  Hitchcock,  "and  so  infinitely  did 
she  surpass  expectations  that  it  was  beyond  any  at  that  time  ever  known.  It 
was  reserved  for  Woffington  to  exhibit  the  elegant  man  of  fashion  in  a 
style,  perhaps,  beyond  the  author's  warmest  ideas,  and  she  never  failed  of 
drawing  a  most  brilliant  and  admiring  audience."  f 

*  "  Macklitiiana  " — European  Magazine,  May,  1800. 
f  Hitchcock's  frisk  Stage. 


(29) 


PERIOD    IV. 


FROM  COVENT  GARDEN  TO  DRURY  LANE. 


THE  following  season  Woffington  left  Covent  Garden  for  Drury  Lane. 
Why  Rich  was  blind  enough  to  let  her  slip  from  his  theatre  is  a 
mystery.  Mrs.  Pritchard  is  in  the  cast  for  her  characters  at  Covent 
Garden,  and  certainly  her  salary  could  not  have  been  less  than  that  of  the 
younger  actress'.  Still  we  are  told  that  Rich  declined  to  make  any  advance 
on  his  original  terms  with  Woffington,  who  naturally  expected  an  increased 
remuneration  after  the  very  great  successes  she  had  made.  Rich  at  first 
hesitated  and  then  tried  to  bully  her.  Woffington  was  naturally  sensitive  as 
to  her  own  worth  and  was   conscientiously  firm  when  her  mind  was  made   up. 

She  promptly  left  Covent  Garden  Theatre  and  went  to  the  other 
house,  where,  on  the  8th  of  September,  1741,  she  opened  in  the  character  of 
Sylvia.  This  seems  always  to  have  been  her  favorite  part,  and  naturally  so : 
it  is  womanly,  tender,  rakish  and  heroic,  all  in  one.  The  very  part  for  an 
actress  whose  talents  do  not  run  in  a  single  groove — and  who  is  blessed 
with   something  more   than   a  mere   monotone. 

The  company  engaged  at  Drury  Lane  this  season  was  a  remarkable 
one.  Among  the  women  we  find  the  names  of  Kitty  Clive,  Miss  Cibber 
(daughter  of  Theophilus),  Mrs.  Mills,  Mrs.  Macklin,  Mrs.  Butler  and  Mrs. 
Ridout.  Among  the  men  Macklin  (already  famous  for  his  naturalistic  per- 
formances and,  even  at  this  date,  generally  noted  for  his  unstilted  and  wholly 
untheatrical  declamation),  Theophilus  Cibber,  Mills,  Cross  (husband  of  the  pretty 
Mrs.  Cross,  who  was  also  in  this  company),  and  Ben  Johnson  (who  was  in  his 
77th   year  and  died   this   season). 

(3o) 


FROM  CO  VENT  GARDEN  TO  DRURY  LANE. 

This  Johnson  was  probably  the  first  actor  who  became  especially  noted 
for  ignoring  the  audience :  on  entering  upon  the  stage  he  used  to  fix  his 
large  blue  eyes  upon  the  person  to  whom  he  was  talking,  and  was  never 
known  to  let  them  wander  from  the  scene  to  any  part  of  the  theatre.* 
Milward,  an  actor  who  was  praised  for  his  possession  of  a  voice  which 
comprehended  and  expressed  the  utmost  compass  of  harmony,  was  also  a 
member  of  the  company.-)-  He  played  characters  ranging  from  Othello  an 
Hamlet  to   such  as   ranked   in   light  and  low  comedy. 

Mrs.  Woffington  played  during  her  first  season  at  Drury  Lane  Lady 
Brute  in  "The  Provoked  Wife,"  for  the  first  time;  and  Nerissa  in  "Merchant  of 
Venice"  to  the  Portia  of  Kitty  Clive  and  the  Shylock  of  Macklin  (it  was 
during  the  previous  season  that  he  had  broken  loose  from  tradition  and 
presented  "the  Jew  that  Shakspere  drew");  she  also  played  Rosalind  for  the 
first  time  with  Mrs.  Clive  as  Celia,  Macklin  as  Touchstone,  and  Cibber,  Jr., 
as  yaques.  This  year  there  was  also  an  important  revival  of  "  All's  Well 
that  Ends  Well,"  in  which  Woffington  acted  Helena,  Theophilus  Cibber 
Parolles,   Macklin   the    Clown   and   Mrs.   Ridout  Diana. 

There  seems  to  have  been  a  singular  fatality  about  this  production  of 
Shakspere's  comedy.  It  was  first  announced  for  production  on  the  2 2d  of 
January,  1742,  after  having  been  forgotten  as  a  stage  play  for  at  least  a 
century.  The  rehearsals  had  been  attended  with  more  or  less  mishap,  and 
on  the  first  representation,  Woffington,  who  had  fought  against  every  advice  to 
the  contrary,  came  to  the  theatre  from  a  sick  bed,  dressed  for  her  part,  and 
even  went  out  upon  the  stage  and  stood  by  the  scene,  ready  to  make  her 
first  entrance,  when  she  fainted  away  and  had  to  be  carried  back  to  her 
dressing  room,  and  eventually  home.  The  part  was  read  upon  this  occasion 
by  Mrs.  Mills,  and  the  play  proceeded  in  that  lame  fashion.  It  was 
announced  for  repetition  for  the  following  Friday,  "if  Mrs.  Woffington  were 
well  enough."  But  when  Friday  came,  Milward,  who  had  played  The  King 
on  the   first  night  was   taken   ill,   and   "  All's  Well "    did   not  see   the   footlights 

*  Geneste.       Vol.   IV,  p.   2. 

f  Hill,   in  his  preface   to  Zara. 

(31) 


PERIOD  IV. 

again  until  February  16th.  Mrs.  Ridout,  who  had  played  Diana,  was  now 
taken  ill,  and  after  playing  one  night,  was  forbidden  by  her  physician  to  act 
for  a  month;  and  Mrs.  Butler,  who  acted  the  Countess,  was  also  seized  with 
some  mysterious  distemper  during  the  progress  of  the  piece.  Certainly  this 
is  a  chapter  of  accidents  sufficient  to  discourage  any  manager,  and  although 
Geneste  disputes  with  Davies  the  correctness  of  some  of  the  particulars,  his 
only  reason  for  doing  so  is  that  all  the  above  names  appear  in  each  bill  of 
performance :  a  weak  point  to  take,  as  all  know,  in  our  own  times,  who 
having  read  the  name  of  some  favorite  player  on  the  programme  of  the 
night,  have  found  a  substitute  performing  his  or  her  part.  Finally,  to  cap 
the  climax,  Milward  did  not  take  sufficient  precaution  when  he  re-appeared  in 
the  part  of  The  King,  and  caught  a  cold  through  wearing  too  thin  a  cos- 
tume,  and   speedily   fell   a   victim   to   consumption. 

During  his  illness  he  was  tenderly  nursed  by  Woffington,  who,  although 
but  slightly  acquainted  with  him,  we  are  told,  felt  much  sympathy  for  his 
unfortunate  condition.  Milward  was  greatly  affected  by  her  kindness,  and 
repeatedly  declared  that  Woffington's  heart  was  as  gentle  as  her  face  was 
lovely.  Once,  when  he  was  very  weak,  one  of  his  friends  asked  him  if  he 
had  hopes  of  his  recovery.  "  How  is  it  possible  for  me  to  die,"  he  returned 
with  a  faint  effort  at  pleasantry,  "when  I  have  such  a  physician  as  Mrs. 
Woffington."  Even  her  care,  however,  could  not  save  the  unfortunate  Mil- 
ward,  who  died  before  the  end  of  February.  On  March  8th  his  widow  and 
children  were  given  a  benefit,  for  which  Woffington  acted; — and,  indeed,  when 
did  not  this  warm-hearted,  generous  woman  respond  to  the  call  of  charity  in 
behalf  of  friend   or  foe? 

For  a  brief  spell  Delane  succeeded  to  Milward's  characters,  such  as 
Hamlet,  Young  Bevil  and  Macbeth,  but  he  made  no  mark,  and  he  was  but  a 
make-shift  until  the  appearance  on  those  boards  of  the  great  genius,  who 
thenceforward,  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century,  was  to  illumine  the  stage  of 
his  time  with  his  own  refulgent  light,  and  who  was  to  leave  such  an  indelible 
impress  upon  the  life   of  Margaret  Woffington. 

On   the    1 6th  of    May,    David   Garrick    made    his    debut  at  Drury   Lane 

(32) 


FROM  CO  VENT  GARDEN  TO  DRURY  LANE. 

for  the  benefit  of  the  widow  of  Harpur,  the  comedian  but  recently  deceased. 
A  benefit  had  been  previously  announced  for  Harpur's  widow,  but  it  must 
have  failed  somehow,  hence  the  second  one.  Garrick  again  appeared  at  Drury 
Lane  on  the  26th  as  Bayes  in  the  "  Rehearsal,"  and  for  a  third  time  as 
King  Lear  to  the  Cordelia  of  Mrs.  Woffington ;  and  finally  as  Richard  III 
on   the   31st  of  May,   when   the   season   closed. 

We  can  imagine  the  effect  upon  Woffington  of  these  few,  comparatively 
accidental,  performances  by  the  marvellous  actor  who  had  but  that  season  made 
his  debut  in  London  (October  19th,  1741,  was  the  date  of  Garrick's  first  appear- 
ance at  the  little  out-of-the-way  Goodman's  Fields'  Theatre),  and  who  had 
electrified  the  Metropolis,  as  it  had  never  before  been  moved,  from  the  very 
first  moment  he  strode  upon  the  stage  in  Colley  Cibber's  version  of  Ricttard 
III*  From  the  polite  ends  of  Westminster  the  most  elegant  company  had 
flocked  to  see  him,  and  Geneste  says,  "  Temple  Bar  was  choked  with  a  string 
of  coaches   every   night  he   played."f 

Garrick  had  the  charm  of  youth  in  his  favor,  but  I  doubt  if  he  ought  to 
be  credited  with  originating  the  easy  and  familiar  yet  forcible  style  of  speaking 
and  acting  which  seems,  from  all  accounts,  to  have  been  the  great  attraction 
of  his  method  as  contrasted  with  the  monotonous  "musical  cadences"  of  his 
predecessors.  Macklin  certainly  was  the  first  to  cut  loose  from  the  settled, 
pedantic  and  pompous  methods  (though  withal  graceful)  of  Quin,  Betterton 
and  Barton  Booth,  and  in  his  later  years  opened  a  school  to  teach  his  "natural 
system." 

Garrick  had  acted  from  October  to  May  at  Goodman's  Fields,  after  which 
the    theatre  was  permanently  closed,      A   similar  managerial   envy  and   rivalry 

*  The  programme  of  Goodman's  Fields'  Tlieatre  announced  "  The  Part  of  King  Richard, 
by  A  Gentleman  who  never  appeared  on  any  stage!'  This  was  not  correct.  Garrick  had 
acted  under  the  name  of  Lydell  for  an  entire  season, — before  this  London  debut, — at  Ipswich, 
with  a  company  under  the  management  of  Giffard,  the  manager  of  Goodman's  Fields' 
Tlieatre.  Giffard  afterward  brought  him  out  in  the  Metropolis,  as  above  noted.  He  made  his 
debut  in  the  little  house  near  Ratcliffe  Highway,  in  a  "black"  character,  in  order  to  con- 
ceal his  blushes  and  nervousness,  and  to  disguise  his  identity  if  tie  failed. 

t  Why  Temple  Bar  should  have  been  c/ioked  with  carriages  on  their  way  to  a  theatre 
over  a  mile  distant,  tlu  other  side  of  St.  Paul's,  it  is  difficult  to  comprehend.  If  this  statement 
is  true,  Garrick's  performances  must  have  been  attended  with  as  much  carriage  company  as 
a  New  York  politician's  funeral. 

5  (33) 


PERIOD   IV. 

to  that  which  had  caused  Violante's  booth  in  Dublin  to  be  shut  up,  prevailed 
upon  the  authorities  in  London  to  put  in  force  a  previous  Act  of  Parliament, 
and  so  drove  from  the  field  this  more  successful  rival  to  its  "patented" 
adversaries.  This  brought  Garrick  to  Drury  Lane,  where  as  I  have  shown 
he  gave  a  few  performances  at  the  end  of  the  season  of  1741-42;  and  he 
was  also  engaged  by  Fleetwood  (who  was  at  that  time  the  manager  of  this 
house)  for  the  whole  of  the  succeeding  season,  at  the  then  unheard  of 
salary   of  six  hundred  guineas  a  year. 

It  is  quite  presumable  that  Woffington  and  Garrick  had  met  long  before 
these  few  preliminary  performances  at  Drury  Lane.  It  is  not  at  all  unlikely 
that  two  such  beings,  both  drawing  their  inspirations  from  nature's  own  fount, 
should  have  been  mutually  attracted  toward  each  other.  Garrick  came  to 
London  with  Samuel  Johnson,*  and  had,  therefore,  been  many  months  a 
resident  of  the  Metropolis  before  Woffington  made  her  debut  at  Covent  Garden, 
and  must  have  been  quite  a  "man  about  town"  when  she  set  London  a-fire 
with  her  performances  of  Sylvia  and  Wildair.  Indeed,  it  is  related  that  he 
was  a  frequenter  of  the  green-rooms  of  the  period.  These  were  more  "free"  to 
the  beaux  and  wits  of  that  time  than  at  any  other  period  of  modern  stage 
history,  though  quite  fashionable  resorts  in  the  Roman  theatres  of  the  decadence 
of  the  Empire.  Garrick  is  described  even  at  this  time  as  having  eyes  for  no 
one  but  Peggy.  It  is  about  this  date  we  may  suppose  him  to  have  written 
those  verses  which  have  been  most  generally  ascribed  to  him,  though  some 
have  given  the  credit  of  them  to  another  of  Woffington's  admirers:  Sir  Charles 
Hanbury  Williams.  Whoever  the  writer,  they  certainly  were  written  in  eulogy 
of  Woffington.      They  originally  appeared  in    the   London    Magazine. 

TO    PEGGY. 
By  D.  G. 
Once  more  I'll  Tune  my  vocal  Shell, 
To  hills  and  dales  my  Passion  tell, 
A  Flame  which  Time  can  never  quell 

That  burns  for  lovely  Peggy. 


*  At  St.  John's  Gate,  Clerkenwell,  where  "Johnson "  toiled  for  Cave,  there  is,  or  was 
until  lately,  emblazoned  on  one  of  the  walls  in  large  letters:  "In  this  room  Garrick 
made  his  essay  as  an  actor  in  London  in  1737,  in  the  farce  of  the  Mock  Doctor."  Garrick 
was  but  twenty-one  at  that  date.  » 

(34) 


FROM  CO  VENT  GARDEN  TO  DRURY  LANE. 

Yet  greater  Bards  the   Lyre  should  hit— 
For,   pray,   what   Subject   is   more   fit 
Than  to   record   the  radiant  Wit 

And   Bloom   of  lovely   Peggy? 

The  Sun,   first  rising  in  the   morn, 
That  paints  the    dew-bespangled  Thorn, 
Doth    not   so   much   the  day  Adorn 

As  does   my  lovely  Peggy. 
And   when   in   Thetis'   lap  to   rest 
He   streaks   with    Gold   the   ruddy  west 
He's  not  so   Beauteous,  as   undrest 

Appears   my   lovely   Peggy. 

Were   she   Arrayed   in   rustic  weed 
With  her  the  Bleating  flocks  I'd  feed, 
And   pipe   upon   my   Oaten   reed 

To   Please  my  lovely   Peggy. 
With  her  a  Cottage  would  delight. 
All  pleases  when  she's  in  my  Sight! 
But  when  she's  gone  'Tis  endless   Night — 

All's   dark   without   my   Peggy. 

When  Zephyr  on  the  violet  Blows, 
Or  Breathes  upon  the  damask  rose, 
He  does  not  half  the   Sweets   disclose 

That   does   my   lovely   Peggy. 
I  stole  a  kiss  the   other  day — 
And  trust  me,   Naught  but  Truth   I   say, 
The   fragrant   Breath   of  blooming   May 

Was   not  so  sweet  as   Peggy. 

While  bees  from   Flowers  to  Flowers  rove, 
And   Linnets   warble   through   the   Grove, 
Or   Stately   swans   the   Waters   love — 

So  long  shall   I  love   Peggy. 
And  when   Death,  with   his   Pointed  dart, 
Shall  strike  the  blow  that  rends  my   Heart, 
My  Words  shall   be   when   I   depart 

Adieu   my   lovely   Peggy! 

That  Garrick   was   seriously  in   love  with  Woffington  at  this  period,  and 
long  before  they  played  together  on  the  same  stage,  there  can  be  little  doubt; 

(35) 


PERIOD  IV. 

and,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  time,  he  published  his  love  in  verse  form 
more  than  once.  In  a  collection  of  "Poems  by  Various  Hands,"  issued  by 
Dodsley  in  six  volumes  (first  edition  of  1763),  the  following  is  to  be  found 
under  the   date   of  1743. 

SONG    TO    SYLVIA. 
By  D.  G. 

If  Truth  can  fix  thy  wav'ring   Heart, 

Let  Damon  urge  his  claim; 
He   feels   the   Passion,   void    of  art — 

The  pure,  the   constant  Flame. 

Though  sighing  swains  their  Torments  tell — 

Their  sensual   love  contemn; 
They  only  prize  the  beauteous  Shell, 

But  slight  the  inward   Gem. 

Possession  cures  the  wounded   Heart, 

Destroys  the  Transient  Fire, 
But  when  the   Mind  receives  the  Dart, 

Enjoyment  whets  desire. 

Your  charms  such  slavish   Sense   Controul, 

A  Tyrant's    short  lived  Reign  I 
But  milder  Reason  rules  the  Soul, 

Nor  Time  can  break   the  Chain. 

By  Age  your  Beauty  will  decay, 

Your  Mind  improve  with  Years: 
And  when  the  Blossom  fades   away 

The  Ripening  Fruit  appears. 

May   Heaven  and   Sylvia   grant   my   suit, 

And  bless  the  future  Hour — 
That  Damon  who  can  taste  the  Fruit 

May  gather  every  Flower. 

From  such  evidences  of  Garrick's  feeling  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
suppose  that  he  sought,  or  at  least  eagerly  accepted,  the  Drury  Lane  engage- 
ment,  so  as    to    be   nearer  the    lovely   woman  and  actress   who  is    known   to 

(36) 


FROM  CO  VENT  GARDEN  TO  DRURY  LANE. 

have  charmed  him  and  kept  him  in  willing  thraldom  for  some  years  after. 
There  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  end  of  this  season,  Garrick's  first  in 
London  and  Woffington's  first  at  Drury  Lane,  found  these  two  great  players 
of  one  mind,  one  in  aim  and  pursuit:  and,  most  probably,  one  in  heart. 
Woffington  was  twenty-four  years  of  age,  Garrick  was  twenty-six,  having  been 
born  in  February,  171 6,  in  the  town  of  Hereford,  which  was  also,  it  has 
been   asserted,   the  birthplace   of  Nell   Gwynn. 


(37) 


PERIOD  V. 

FROM    THE   THAMES    TO   THE    LIFFEY. 


WHATEVER  Woffington's  feelings  toward  Garrick  may  have  been 
up  to  the  close  of  their  first  Drury  Lane  season  together,  matters 
were  coming  to  a  pleasurable  climax  for  them.  The  Drury  Lane 
term  closed  with  the  end  of  May.  In  June  we  find  Garrick  and  Woffington 
announced  to  act  together  at  the  Smock  Alley  Theatre  in  Dublin. 

This  was  not  the  old  Smock  Alley  house  of  Woffington's  girlhood,  but 
a  new  and  handsome  building  erected  on  the  same  site.*  The  Aungier  Street 
Theatre  was  now  the  "old  and  forsaken"  concern,  and  fashion  had  turned  its 
face  toward  the  newer  temple. 

During  the  two  years  that  Woffington  had  been  away  in  London  all  the 
Dublin  theatres  had  been  more  or  less  neglected.  The  managers,  partly 
from  lethargy,  partly  from  lack  of  means,  had  not  engaged  actors  of  suffi- 
cient ability  to  tempt  popular  interest  to  the  drama.  There  was  no  one  who 
could  draw  an  audience  as  the  absent  Woffington  was  wont  to  do — though 
George  Anne  Bellamy  had  made  her  debut  during  this  period;  but,  while 
supported  by  a  choice  coterie  from  the  Castle  precincts,  she  had  not  been 
financially  attractive. 

In  addition  to  this,  the  crops  had  been  poor  for  one  or  two  seasons,  the 
winters  extraordinarily  inclement,  and  money  scarce  with  everyone. 

Theatrical  matters,  previous  to  1742,  therefore,  were  as  dull  and  depressing 
in   Dublin   as  they    could    be.       At  the  opening  of   this    season,   however,  the 

*"The  new  and  liandsome  theatre"  is  no  more — not  a  vestige  remains;  and  on  the 
spot  there  was  erected  a  little  Catholic  church,  but  {1886)  even  that  has  disappeared— and 
the  site  long  since  devoted  to  other  uses. 

(38) 


MARGARET  WOFFINGTON  in  1740. 


•  •  • 


FROM  THE  THAMES   TO   THE  LIFFEY. 

managers  of  the  old  Theatre  Royal  were  resolved  to  change  the  condition  of 
matters.  They  had  already  engaged  Quin,  then  in  the  meridian  of  his  power: 
an  actor  whom  many  people  thought  equal  to  Garrick ;  and  Mrs.  Cibber, 
quite  fresh  from  'her  long  retirement  from  the  musical  arena,  was  specially 
brought  from  London  to  support  Quin's  Young  Bevil  in  "The  Corsican  Lovers," 
by  assuming   the   part  of  Indiana. 

Some  years  previously,  when  Handel  visited  Dublin  to  conduct  a  per- 
formance of  his  own  oratorio,  Mrs.  Cibber  had  sung  several  of  the  principal 
passages ;  and  the  recollection  of  her  musical  powers,  joined  to  her  newly- 
revealed  ability  as  an  actress,  combined  to  make  this  lady  much  of  a  favorite 
in  Dublin.  Mr.  Quin,  therefore,  with  her  support,  opened  his  season  at 
the  Theatre  Royal  under  very  favorable  auspices,  and  with  every  promise  of 
an  abundant  pecuniary  success.  So  strong  a  cast  of  favorite  plays  had  revived, 
in   some  measure,   the   dormant  appetite   of  the  Irish  public   for  the   drama. 

Meanwhile  Duval,  the  manager  of  the  Smock  Alley  Theatre,  spite  of  his 
new  house,  was  playing  to  empty  benches.  So  powerful  a  combination  as 
that  offered  at  the  rival  theatre  gave  him  the  alternative  between  a  supreme 
effort  and  bankruptcy.  He  chose  the  former.  A  trusty  messenger  was  hurried 
off  to  London,  who  engaged,  at  their  own  terms,  Mr.  Garrick  and  Mrs. 
Woffington  for  a  season  in  Dublin.  Walker  (the  famous  Macheath  of 
earlier  years)  and  other  actors  of  recognized  ability  were  at  the  same  time 
employed  to  support  the  twin  stars  fittingly.  Duval  was  well  rewarded  for 
this  liberal  policy.  So  great  was  the  reputation  in  Ireland  of  David  Garrick 
and  Margaret  Woffington,  that  either  one  would  have  plucked  the  laurels  from 
the  triumphant  Royal.*  With  both  together,  Duval  could  sway  the  kingdom. 
Combined  forces   so  powerful,   had   never  yet  been   seen   on   the   Irish   stage. 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  extraordinary  spectacle  of  all  the  histrionic 
powers  of  Great  Britain  arrayed  in  rivalry  over  the  possession  of  an  Irish 
town,  which  but  the  day  before  had  seemed  to  be  asleep. 

On  the  15th  of  June,  1742,  hostilities  were  opened  by  the  reappearance 
of    Mrs.   Woffington   in    her  famous    character  of    Sylvia,   supported    by   David 

*  Murphy s  Life  of  Garrick ;    Davies'   Life  of  Garrick ;    Hitc/icock's   Irish   Stage. 

(39) 


PERIOD    V. 

Garrick  as  Plume.  On  the  following  Friday  Mr.  Garrick  appeared  as 
Richard  III,  supported  by  Mrs.  Woffington  as  Lady  Anne.  There  were 
not  as  many  folks,  by  half,  inside  the  theatre  as  there  were  struggling  at 
the  doors.  Those  who  succeeded  in  gaining  admittance  held  audience  next 
day  to  recount  the  marvels  of  these  performances.  The  return  of  "Lovely 
Peggy"  to  her  native  town,  and  the  opportunity  to  feel  the  magnetism  of 
Garrick's  art,  were  themes  that  occupied  conversation  in  the  Irish  capital,  from 
the  Castle  to  the  hovel.  After  a  few  attempts  to  stem  the  tide  of  popular 
favor,  the  Theatre  Royal  closed  with  Mrs.  Cibber's  Andromache — the  last 
character  performed  by  this  admirable  actress  during  that  engagement  in 
Ireland:    and   Smock  Alley   carried  everything  before  it 

This  eventful  season  continued  during  June,  July  and  August,  three 
months  of  the  very  hottest  weather  that  had,  up  to  that  time,  ever  been 
recorded  for  Ireland. 

Indeed,  the  excessive  heat,  and  the  concurrent  excitement  among  those 
who  attended  the  performances  at  Smock  Alley,  aided  not  a  little,  perhaps,  by 
the  atmosphere  of  a  close  and  illy  ventilated  playhouse,  were  the  causes  of 
an  epidemic  which  broke  out  about  this  time  in  Dublin,  which  from  the 
circumstances  of  the  moment  was  called  "The  Garrick  Fever."  This  was 
certainly   a  disagreeable    feature    of  the    season,  but  it   was    the  only  one. 

Garrick  became  an  immediate  favorite  with  the  most  fastidious  play- 
goers in  Great  Britain,  and  Woffington  was  re-crowned  queen  of  the  Dublin 
heart. 

Garrick  had  every  reason  to  acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  Woffing- 
ton, and  to  her  advice  may  be  ascribed  much  of  his  social  popularity.  She 
helped  him  to  understand  the  Irish  character,  and  he  had  the  good  common 
sense  to  accept  her  suggestions,  and  was  rewarded  accordingly  by  successes  he 
might  not  otherwise  have  achieved.  Whatever  of  love  there  may  have  been 
between  them  at  this  time  was  prudently  concealed,  and  both  fared  all  the 
better  for  it  in  the  estimation  of  a  world  which  prefers  to  consider  its 
idols  as  models  of  propriety,  even  if  they  be  not  so.  In  this  way  it  offers 
a  premium  on  prudence  and  regard  for  appearances — virtues  in  themselves, 
when   the  virtues  they  simulate  are  absent    vv 

(4o) 


FROM  THE  THAMES  TO  THE  LIFFEY. 

An  incident  is  related  of  this  period  of  their  careers,  which  has  been 
told  in  various  ways,  sometimes  quite  viciously,  and  sometimes  with  another 
"third  party,"   but  always  with   Garrick   and  Woffington  as  hero  and  heroine. 

Mrs.  Woffington  was  overrun  with  suitors,  as  may  be  supposed.  It  is 
the  fate  of  all  actresses:  great  ones  especially;  young  and  pretty  ones  more 
so  than  others.  All  her  suitors  were  naturally  jealous  of  Garrick.  Every  night 
they  writhed  in  their  stalls  from  jealous  envy  at  seeing  these  two  young  and 
comely  players  make  public  love  to  each  other  on  the  stage: — the  dames 
of  fashion  jealous  of  Woffington  with  Garrick,  the  young  fops  of  College 
Green  green  with  envy  of  Garrick  with  Peggy.  Especially  was  this  the  state 
of  feeling  in  the  breast  of  one  ardent  young  lordling,  who  was,  in  his  sane 
and  quiet  moments,  a  not  unwelcome  visitor  at  Woffington's  home:  the  home, 
also,  we  may  not  doubt,  of  her  mother  and  sister.  Garrick  had  called 
to  see  her  one  day,  and,  as  was  then  the  custom,  he  had  his  head  shaved 
and  wore  a  wig.  The  weather,  as  we  have  already  noted,  was  frightfully 
warm,  and  Garrick,  being  on  the  friendliest  terms  at  Mrs.  Woffington's  house, 
had  taken  off  his  wig  to  cool  his  head,  and  laying  it  aside  had  forgot  all  about 

it      In  the  midst  of  their  interview  My  Lord  was  announced.      He  was 

a  great  patron  of  the  drama,  besides  being  a  personal  admirer  of  the  fair 
Peggy,  and  as  neither  Woffington  nor  Garrick  cared  to  offend  so  powerful  a 
person,  the  actor  quickly  concealed  himself  in  another  room  to  avoid  increasing 
the  visitor's  jealousy. 

But  upon  the  table,  when  his  lordship  entered,  right  before  his  eyes, 
lay  the   fatal   wig! 

He  at  once  recognized  it  to  be  that  of  Garrick,  and  stormed  at  Peggy, 
who  calmly  listened  to  him,  and  when  he  had  finished  broke  out  into  an 
immoderate  fit  of  laughter.  "Yes,  my  lord,"  she  exclaimed,  "it  is  certainly 
Mr.  Garrick's  wig;  and  as  I  am  learning  a  new  breeches-part  he  was  good 
enough  to  lend  it  to  me  to  practice  with :  this  is  the  simple  truth :  and  I 
beg  you  never  let  me  hear  you  talk  jealous  nonsense  again ! "  The  enamoured 
nobleman,  it  is  said,  believed  her;  and  thus  her  ready  wit  saved  for  both 
herself   and  Garrick   My  Lord's   friendship  and   patronage. 

6  (41) 


PERIOD   V. 

This  brief  summer  season  in  Dublin  continued  with  unabated  success 
until  the  25th  of  August,  when  it  was  brought  to  a  close  with  a  performance 
of  "The  Recruiting  Officer,"  Garrick  again  playing  Plume;  Walker,  the  original 
Macheath,  played  Kite,*  and  Woffington,  of  course,  Sylvia.  She  had  added 
Lady  Betty  Modish  to  her  personations  this  summer  also,  and  her  fine  dame 
a  la  mode  had  no  less  enthusiastic  admirers  than  her  rakish  man  about  town. 

Of  course  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Woffington  always  escaped 
harsh  criticism.  None,  in  fact,  are  so  liable  to  the  earnings  of  the  critical 
authorities  as  those  who  are  most  successful  in  the  literary  or  the  theatrical 
field.  Her  voice  seems  to  have  been  her  most  vulnerable  point,  but  then 
only  when  she  essayed  parts  in  heavy  tragedy; — nevertheless  we  find  to  the 
very  last  years  of  her  life  her  name  as  frequently  cast  for  tragic  roles  as  for 
those  in  comedy,  even  when  such  favorites  as  Mrs.  Cibber  and  Mrs.  Pritchard 
(who  may  be  called  the  immediate  predecessor  of  Mrs.  Siddons  in  the  roles  of 
higher  tragedy)  were  in  the  same  company.  So  Woffington  was  evidently  the 
preference  of  her  audiences,  even  in  tragic  parts,  and,  as  Dr.  Johnson  has  very 
sagely  said,  "That  which  pleases  long  and  pleases  many  must  possess  some 
merit." 

Woffington's  last  act  before  leaving  Ireland  at  the  end  of  this  phe- 
nomenal summer  season  was  to  have  her  mother  comfortably  settled  in  a 
respectable  home,  and  to  provide  for  her  sister's  education  in  all  the  branches 
of  elegant  learning  and  the  accomplishments  of  a  lady  of  society. 

It  was  no  more  than  was  to  be  expected  of  a  big-hearted  woman  like 
Woffington,  that  no  sooner  was  she  able  to  do  so  than  she  at  once  placed  her 
family  beyond  the  cares  of  poverty  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives.  It  is  said 
that  for  many  years  old  Mrs.  Woffington  might  have  been  seen  going  about 
in  Dublin,  from  one  Catholic  chapel  to  the  other,  attired  in  a  large  black 
velvet  mantle,  and  carrying  a  gold  snuff-box.f  As  for  her  sister,  Peggy 
removed  Polly  from  Dublin  a  few  years  later  and  placed  her  at  school  in  a 
French  convent. 

*  Walker  played  but  very  seldom  following  this,  and  died  very  shortly  after,  in  Dublin. 
t  O'Keefe's  Recollections.  v 

(42) 


FROM  THE  THAMES  TO  THE  LIFFEY. 

To  accomplish  these  duties,  Woffington  remained  in  Dublin  some  little 
while  after  the  close  of  the  engagement;  and  it  is  a  notable  incident  that  Garrick 
and  Mrs.  Cibber  took  passage  together  in  the  same  packet  for  England.  It 
is  somewhat  singular,  too,  that  when  Garrick  next  acted  in  Dublin,  a  few  years 
later,  Mrs.  Cibber  played  an  engagement  there  at  the  same  time,  and  without 
Mrs.  Woffington.  Many  writers  have  dwelt  so  strongly  upon  Woffington's 
lightness  of  character  and  general  heedlessness  as  reasons  for  the  later  changes 
in  Garrick's  feeling  towards  her,  that  I  point  with  emphasis  to  an  inference 
to  be  gathered  from  the  above  facts :  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  the  gende- 
man  gave  her  many  occasions  for  retaliatory  words  and  deeds,  and  in 
no  case  more  than  in  his  frequent  intercourse  and  companionship  with  the 
fair  but    frail   sister  of  good    Doctor  Arne. 

However,  let  us  rejoin  our  company  on  the  banks  of  the  muddy 
Thames   after  their    very   profitable   trip   up   the  muddier  Liffey. 


(43) 


PERIOD  VI. 


FROM   HOUSE -DRAWING  TO   HOUSE-KEEPING. 


WOFFINGTON  continued  at  Drury  Lane  during  the  next  season, 
which  opened  on  the  nth  of  September:  with  Macklin  as  Shylock 
and  Kitty  Clive  as  Portia.  Peggy  did  not  appear  until  the  14th 
of  the  month,  when  she  acted  Rosalind,  with  Kitty  Clive  as  Celia.  Garrick  was 
not  seen  until  the  5th  of  October,  when  he  appeared  as  Chamont  in  Otway's 
"  Orphan,"  with  Mrs.  Pritchard  as  Monimia.  He  had  previously  played  Richard  III 
for  two  evenings  at  Covent  Garden,  with  Mrs.  Cibber  as  Lady  Anne  and 
Quin   as  Henry    VI. 

Drury  Lane  company  was  never  before  so  strong.  An  important  revival 
of  "The  Recruiting  Officer"  was  given  in  October,  when  Garrick  played  Plume 
for  the  first  time  at  Drury  Lane.  Macklin  acted  Brazen,  and  Kitty  Clive 
Rose,  a  part  in  which  she  seems  to  have  made  fame  enough  to  be  perpet- 
uated in  a  couple  of  admirable  mezzotints.  The  next  month  (Nov.  16th)  was- 
the  first  time  that  Garrick  performed  Hamlet  in  London,  though  he  had  played 
the  part  in  Ireland;  and  in  the  Drury  Lane  cast  we  find  the  names  of  Kitty 
Clive  for  Ophelia  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  for  the  Queen;  Macklin  played  the  First 
Gravedigger.  Here's  versatility  if  you  will,  but  not  greater  than  is  evi- 
denced in  the  cast  of  the  very  next  play  produced,  when  we  find  the  stately 
Pritchard  (who  was  wont  to  prate  of  her  "gownds")  cast  for  the  saucy 
servant-maid,  Patch,  in  "The  Busybody."  For  Woffington's  first  benefit  in 
London,  which  occurred  on  St.  Patrick's  Day,  1 743,  "  The  Constant  Couple "  was 
acted,  when  Woffington  resigned  her  part  of  Wildair  to  Garrick;  reserving 
for  herself  the  part  of  Lady  Lurewell,  and  passing  the  most  of  the  evening  in 

(44) 


WOFFINGTON   and   SHUTEH 
in  the  "MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR.' 


'.C  IV       SCENE  II 


FROM  HOUSE-DRAWING  TO  HOUSE-KEEPING. 

prompting  Sir  Harry.  None  of  Garrick's  biographers  give  even  a  line  of 
comment  to  his  performance  of  Wildair.  Tate  Wilkinson  says  he  made  an 
unhappy   failure   in   it. 

Ah!  if  one  could  but  lift  the  veil  which  hid  then,  and  hides  now,  the 
motives  that  led  to  this  strange  surrender  on  Peggy's  part  of  a  character 
which  she  undoubtedly  held  as  her  own  by  every  claim  of  Nature  and  Art: 
and  penetrate  the  still  stranger  blindness  which  permitted  Garrick  to  be  led 
into   such   a  trap, — even   by   Love  ! 

I  have  noted  the  versatility  of  the  company  which  was  this  season  acting 
at  Drury  Lane ;  but  Garrick's  talents  certainly  capped  the  climax  in  that 
direction.  One  night  Hamlet,  and  another  Bayes,  with  imitations  of  living 
and  dead  actors.  Again,  Richard  III,  and  the  next  night  Abel  Drugger.  He 
seems  to  have  acted  low  comedy  without  grimace,  as  he  acted  tragedy  with 
the  modesty  of  nature,  and  without  strut  or  fustian.  Woffington's  versatility, 
as  we  have  seen,  was   not  a  whit  less   than   that  of  Garrick. 

It  is  amusing  in  this  connection  to  note  the  fanciful  extravagances 
uttered  by  the  panegyrists   of  these  two   eminent  players   during   their  lifetime. 

One  writer  published  a  pamphlet  entitled  "Reasons  why  David  Garrick, 
Esq.,  should  not  appear  on  the  Stage  ! "  *  The  main  reason  being  that  "when 
Mr.  Garrick  appears  upon  the  stage"  the  ivriter  is  "so  blinded  by  prejudice  or 
admiration,  that  he  can  see  no  body  else,  he  can  hear  no  body  else,  and  can 
bear  no  body  else."  Mr.  Garrick  is  advised  to  "quit  the  stage,  because  he 
eclipses  all   who  appear   with  him   on   it." 

Another  rhapsodistf  tunes  his  harp  to  Peggy's  praise  in  this  strain: 
"Mrs.  Woffington  is  a  downright  cheat,  a  triumphant  plagiary;  she  first  steals 
your  heart,  and  then  laughs  at  you  as  secure  of  your  applause.  There  is 
such  a  prepossession  arising  from  her  form ;  such  a  witchcraft  in  her  beauty ; 
and  to  those  who  are  personally  acquainted  with  her,  such  an  absolute  com- 
mand from  the  sweetness  of  her  disposition,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
criticize   upon    her.      And  yet    I   am   daring  enough    to   affirm    she  has    given 


*  Quoted  in  the  London  Magazine,    October,    r?jp. 
f  British  Magazine,   174.7. 

(45) 


PERIOD    VI. 

me   some  pain   in   her    Cleopatra;    but   it  wou'd   give   me   greater   pain   to   find 

fault  with  her,  and  therefore  I  am  willing  to  believe  that  hint  enough  to  satisfy 

the   most    rigid    justice,   reflecting    at    the    same    time    on    Mr.    Gay's    delicate 

remark   in   his   fables: 

In  beauty  faults   conspicuous  grow, 
The  smallest  speck   is  seen   on  snow." 

It  was  in  the  season  of  which  we  are  now  treating,  as  well  as  in  the 
previous  season,  that  most  of  the  oft-told  encounters  between  Clive  and  Wof- 
fington   took  place. 

Evidently  Kitty  fared  the  worse,  as  she  left  Drury  Lane  for  Covent 
Garden  after  this  year,  either  tired  of  the  nightly  green-room  encounter,  which 
the  gossips  of  the  time  retailed  abroad,  or  unwilling  to  see  her  younger  rival 
in  comedy  walk  away  with  so  many  of  the  honors.  There  was  never  much 
love   lost  between    Clive  and  Woffington. 

"  A  pretty  face,"  said  Kitty  to  Peg  one  evening,  "  of  course,  excuses  a 
multiplication   of  sweethearts  !  " 

"  And  a  plain  one,"  retorted  the  ready  Irish  girl,  "  insures  a  vast  over- 
flow of  unmarketable  virtue." 

But  Kitty  Clive  had  found  her  market — was  married,  if  not  happy; 
and  was,  moreover,  neither  plain  nor  ugly,  unless  everyone  of  the  prints  we 
have   of  her,    even   when   plain    Miss   Raftor,   flattter  her  beyond   measure. 

On  another  occasion,  when  playing  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  and  coming  from 
the  scene  with  the  more  than  usually  enthusiastic  applause  still  ringing  in  her 
ear,    Peggy   ran   into   the  green-room   in   great  glee,   exclaiming: 

"  I   really  believe   half  the   house   take  me   to   be  a  man !  " 

"The   other  half  know   the   contrary,"   tartly   replied   the   cynical   Clive. 

And  so  the  "  Merry  Jest  went  round,"  with  no  bones  broken  and  no 
blood  spilt,   but  in   the   coarse   style   of  our   most   refined   ancestors. 

But  the  town  still  continued  madly  in  love  with  Woffington;  that  is  to 
say,  the  men  were  in  love  and  the  women  jealous.  There  were  exceptions, 
of  course,  to  the  rule,  and  some  men  of  fashion  made  a  point  of  differing  with 
the  majority. 

(46). 


FROM  HOUSE-DRAWING  TO  HOUSE-KEEPING. 

"So  you  cannot  bear  Mrs.  Woffington,"  wrote  Horace  Walpole  in  one 
of  his  letters,  "yet  all  the  town  is  in  love  with  her.  To  say  the  truth,  I 
am  glad  to  find  somebody  to  keep  me  in  countenance,  for  I  think  she  is 
an   impudent   Irish-faced   girl." 

It  is  this  same  "Sir  Oracle,"  however,  who  in  later  years  set  his  opinion 
against  that  of  "the  town"  regarding  Mrs.  Siddons,  whom  he  "could  not  think 
the  greatest  prodigy  that  ever  appeared,"  and  who  displayed  "nothing  but 
what  good  sense  and   good   instruction  might  give." 

The  salary  which  Woffington  was  receiving  this  year  is  stated  at 
£7  10s.  per  week  (an  amount  which  would  be  equivalent  to  at  least  three 
times  that  sum,  or  about  $100  of  money  in  our  time),  besides  which  she  was 
allowed  ^50  (or  about  $700  in  our  day)  for  her  costumes,  or  "cloaths,"  as 
appears  from  the  books,  and  she  was  guaranteed  ^180  for  her  benefit.  Mrs. 
Pritchard  received  the  same  emoluments,  but  Kitty  Clive's  receipts  were  some- 
what greater;  she  had  fifteen  guineas  a  week,  and  was  guaranteed  ^221  for  her 
benefit,  though  she  was  only  allowed  ^50  for  her  "cloaths,"  as  the  others  were. 

Garrick's  income  from  salary  and  benefits  amounted  to  nearly  if  not 
quite  a   thousand   pounds   for  the   season. 

It  was  upon  such  uneven  salaries  that  Garrick  and  Woffington  began 
joint  housekeeping:  that  quaint  litde  comedy  in  real  life,  of  which  everyone 
who   came   in   contact  with  them   has   had   something  to  say. 

It  seems   to  have  commenced  after  Woffington's   return   from  Ireland  at 

the  beginning  of  this  season,   and  was   inaugurated  at   Macklin's   house,  where 

Mrs.   Woffington  formerly   had  apartments:    No.  6  Bow   Street,  Covent  Garden. 

Bow  Street  was  not  at  that  time  extended  through   to  Long  Acre,  and  No.  6 

stood  about  where  the   large   glass   conservatory  adjoining  the   present   Covent 

Garden  Theatre   is   now  located,   and  directly    opposite    to    Bow    Street    police 

station,  although  in   the  days  of  Garrick  an  ordinary  brick   residence  occupied 

the  site   of  the  police   court, — and   in    this  identical    house    Fielding  afterwards 

lived,  and  while  there  wrote  Tom  Jones.     It  was  a  congenial  neighborhood  for 

the  literati  of  the  period.      On  the  corner  (of  Bow  and  Russell  Streets)   stood 

Wills'    famous   coffee-house;   and  around  the  corner    (at   No.   8   Russell   Street) 

was  Tom   Davies'   book-shop. 

(47) 


PERIOD    VI. 

Being  continually  mated  with  each  other,  both  in  their  performances  and 
in  popular  opinion,  the  friendship  which  had  arisen  between  Garrick  and  Wof- 
fington  drifted  easily  into  a  stronger  feeling.  This  was  to  be  expected.  Their 
kindred  tastes,  their  constant  enjoyment  of  each  other's  society,  the  sprightly  wit, 
the  fine  thought  and  amiable  temperament  which  marked  their  natures,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  pre-eminence  of  genius  and  fame  that  lifted  them  far  above  all 
their  contemporaries  in  the  dramatic  profession,  were  all  matters  which  not 
only  made   their  union  agreeable   but  advised   that   it  should   be   permanent. 

It  is  most  probable  that  at  the  first  Garrick's  love  was  the  stronger 
of  the  two; — still  Woffington  undoubtedly  grew  to   be  very  fond  of  Garrick. 

In  the  art  to  which  her  life  and  ambition  were  devoted,  Garrick  was  the 
greatest  ornament. 

By  the  possession  of  the  most  remarkable  powers  ever  known  to 
the  stage  he  had  won  every  laurel  that  could  crown  dramatic  genius.  His 
fame  was  confined  to  no  one  class  of  people  in  the  kingdom.  He  was 
the  favorite  of  the  illiterate  and  the  pride  of  the  learned ;  the  most  welcome 
guest  in  the  highest  circles  in  the  land,  and  the  hero  of  the  lowest.  The  honors 
which  had  been  given  to  Garrick,  the  triumphs  he  had  gained,  the  great  esteem 
in  which  he  was  held  by  all  men,  had  not  at  this  time  changed  his  naturally 
agreeable  and  easy  disposition.  At  the  height  of  his  fame,  when  St.  James'  and 
St.  Giles' :  when  the  wits  of  the  most  renowned  circles  and  the  dullards  of  the 
most  obscure,  alike,  regarded  him  with  unqualified  approval — Garrick  yet  main- 
tained the  serenity  of  his  mind;  and  continued  to  be  the  most  affable  when  he 
was  the  most  celebrated  of  men.  His  society  was  sought  by  the  greatest  phi- 
losophers, statesmen  and  poets  of  his  own  sex;  his  smiles  were  coveted  by  the 
most  accomplished  beauties   of  the   other. 

In  receiving  his  addresses  favorably,  therefore,  Woffington  did  only 
what  was  agreeable  to  her  nature  and  what  any  other  woman  would  have 
done.  She  grew  to  love  him  in  all  the  sincerity  of  her  character;  with  all 
the  warmth  of  her  emotional  Irish  nature.  Garrick,  on  his  part,  was 
undoubtedly  honest  in  his  affection  for  her.  She  was  the  foremost  favorite 
of    the    stage    when    he    came    upon    it       She    was    young,    witty,    intelligent 

(48) 


FROM  HOUSE-DRAWING   TO  HOUSE-KEEPING. 

and  beautiful  :  with  a  wealth  of  expression  and  a  fund  of  good  nature 
beyond  any  young  woman  of  her  age.  She,  too,  was  sought  after  by  persons 
"  of  the  first  rank  and  distinction,"  by  men  "  of  the  greatest  character  and 
most  eminent  for  learning,"  all  of  whom  felt  "honored  by  her  acquaintance  and 
charmed  with  her  conversation."*  She  was  an  observant  woman,  and  her  con- 
tact with  good  society  naturally  polished  her  all  the  more.  She  was  a  great 
reader  of  books,  and  her  other  self-taught  accomplishments  fitted  her  for  con- 
tact with  intellectual  society,  which  she  seems  to  have  adorned  beyond  any  of 
her  contemporaries.  She  was,  moreover,  as  a  woman,  the  least  vain  of  any 
of  her  day,  and  whatever  character  she  had  to  play,  be  it  old  or  young,  she 
fitted  herself  to  its  requirements,  and  descended  to  the  level  of  the  circum- 
stances she  was  to  depict. 

Madame  D'Arblay  adds  her  testimony  to  Woffington's  "  home "  accom- 
plishments, and  I  might  quote  to  endless  lengths  from  the  pages  of  Davies, 
Macklin,  Murphy,  and  other  of  D'Arblay's  contemporaries  wherein  this  testimony 
is  preserved.  In  the  "Diary  and  Letters,"  we  may  read  how  "in  graceful  deport- 
ment, in  natural  magnetism  and  in  tact  she  was  a  hostess  so  attractive,  that  her 
receptions  were  crowded  by  people  of  distinction,  and  the  table  was  never  pre- 
sided over  so  charmingly  as  when  she  was  at  the  head  of  it."f  The  charm  of 
her  manners,  the  wit  of  her  conversation  and  the  loveliness  of  her  face  confirmed 
in  social  circles  that  reputation  which  her  genius  had  won  in  the  theatre,  and 
made  her  as  much  esteemed   in   private   life   as   in   public. 

Her  portrait  was  painted  by  such  famous  artists  as  Hogarth,  Wilson, 
Merrier,;};   Eccard  and   Pond. 

The  compliment  of  so  renowned  a  woman's  love  was  something  for 
Garrick   to  be   proud  of. 

The  lavish  praises  which  rewarded  their  efforts  on  the  stage,  and  the 
favorable  opinion    that    continually  linked    their    merits    together,  joined    Miss 

*  Doran. 

f  "  There  are  unliappily  no  records  of  what  passed  in  those  evenings  at  Macklin' s  fwuse. 
But  with  a  company  so  brilliant,  wit,  erudition  and  graceful  compliment  must  Itave  whiled 
away  the  pleasantcst  hours  that  ever  were  known  in  London." — "D'Arblay's  Life  and  Letters." 

\  In  the  Garrick  Club ;  it  is  perhaps  the  loveliest  face  given  Woffington  in  any  of  her 
famous  pictures :  though  not  so  suggestive  of  tlte  woman  of  genius  depicted  in  the  others. 

7  (49) 


PERIOD  VI 

Woffington  and   Mr.   Garrick   so  closely  in  social    estimation  that  there  was   no 
speaking  of  the   one  without  also   referring  to   the   other. 

•'The  lively  Garrick,"  says  Fitzgerald  in  his  Life  of  Garrick,  "did  not 
see  in  her  merely  what  the  men  about  town  so  much  admired,  the  sauciness 
and  boldness  which  *  *  *  seeks  to  captivate  by  an  effrontry  of  speech  and 
bearing,  and  a  wearisome  succession  of  'breeches  parts,'  but  was  taken,  we 
may  be  sure,  by  the  half  pensive,  half  sad  expression,  and  fancied  an  ideal 
that  could  be  capable  of  real  love  and  true  happiness.  Indeed  the  whole  of 
this  amour,  as  it  must  be  called,  turns  out  on  examination  so  different  from 
the  vulgar  notion  handed  down  by  the  Macklins,  Murphys  and  others,  that 
it  becomes  a  valuable  illustration  of  Garrick's  character.*  And  it  will  be  shown, 
and  for  the  first  time,  that  he  was  all  through  looking  to  an  honorable  attach- 
ment, an  honorable  establishment  in  life  with  one  whom  he  could  sincerely 
esteem.  Under  the  follies  and  failings  which  he  fancied  were  those  of  the  hour 
he  saw  the  generous  nature,  the  honest  purpose,  the  warm  impulse,  the  sense 
of  loyalty  and  duty  to  her  profession  which  might  in  time  be  earnest  for  her 
sense  of  duty  to  himself.  Margaret  Woffington,  it  must  be  remembered,  had 
many  gifts  and  accomplishments  that  were  of  an  intellectual  sort.  She  was 
indeed  a  captivating  creature.  She  could  speak  French  admirably  f  and  dance 
with  infinite  grace,  and  above  all,  possessed  a  kind,  generous  heart  that  could 
do  a  good-natured  thing." 

Woffington,  with  all  her  genius,  was  no  more  than  human.  It  would  have 
been  a  very  cold  nature  that  could  withstand  a  suit  so  cleverly  pressed  by 
a  lover  of  Garrick's  fire.  She  did  not  withstand  it.  She  accepted  David 
Garrick's  affection   and  gave   him   her  own   in   return. 

Murphy  tells  us  that  the  engagement  between  them  was  generally 
understood  and  approved  of  by   the   public. 

The  triangular  house-keeping  was  not  of  long  duration  at  Macklin's,  and 
the    couple    most    interested    in    harmonious    living    moved    shortly    to    South- 

*  Why  not  of  Woffington' s  as  well — Mr,  Fitzgerald? 

f  When  and  where  did  she  acquire  "  French "  ?    Did  she  owe  it  to  Madame  Violante's 
interest  in  her  as  a  child?      None  of  the  records  tell  us. 

(SO) 


FROM  HOUSE-DRAWING   TO  HOUSE-KEEPING. 

hampton  Street,  near  the  Strand,*  (Macklin  says  they  "moved  to  more  fashion- 
able quarters"),  and  here  began  that  oft-sung  partnership  in  household  expenses 
which  has  become  celebrated.  Garrick  taking  charge  of  house  and  paying  all 
the  bills  for  each  alternate  month,  and  Woffington  assuming  all  the  responsi- 
bility for  the  others. 

This  unique  arrangement  of  the  household  redounded  more  to  the  fame 
of  the  hostess  than  to  the  host.  Mr.  Macklin,  who  came  oftenest  to  visit 
them  in  the  new  house,  leaves  numerous  reflections,  in  his  memoirs,  of  David 
Garrick's  parsimony  in  providing  for  the  table  during  the  month  of  his 
management. 

" In  talk,  Garrick  was  a  very  generous  man,"  says  Macklin ; f  "a  very 
humane  man  and  all  that,  and  I  believe  he  was  no  hypocrite  in  his  immediate 
feelings.  But  he  would  tell  you  all  this  at  his  house  in  Southhampton  Street, 
till,  turning  the  corner,  the  very  first  ghost  of  a  farthing  would  melt  all  his 
fine  sentiments  into  the  air,  and  he  was  again  a  mere  manager."! 

Among  many  other  proofs  of  Garrick's  penurious  method  of  house- 
keeping may  be  educed  the  characteristic  anecdote  of  Dr.   Johnson. 

The  great  lexicographer  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  most  of  his 
leisure  hours  at  the  hospitable  house  in  Southhampton  Street.  He  met  there 
the  people  whose  educations,  talents  and  eminence  were  most  agreeable  to 
his  thought.  Dr.  Johnson  was  especially  fond  of  the  tea  which  Mrs.  Woffington 
poured  out  for  him.  One  night,  at  the  beginning  of  one  of  her  months  of 
catering,  the  great  man  called  for  his  favorite  beverage,  and  upon  receiving 
the  cup  that  the  hostess  handed  to  him,  Garrick  scolded  her  roundly  for 
making  it  too   strong.  § 

"It  is   no   stronger  than   I   have  made  it  before,"   she   replied. 

"  No  stronger  than  usual ! "  cried  out  Garrick.  "  No  stronger  than 
usual ! "    thumping    the   table  angrily  with    his  fist.      "  It  is,   madam.      All*  last 

*  Congreve  had  lived  in  Southhampton  Street:  and  died  there  in  17 2Q. 

f  "  Mackliniana  " — European  Magazine,  June,   1800. 

X  Garrick  did  not  become  a  manager  until  174.7.  Macklin  evidently  meant  this  as 
the  usual  actor's  jeer  at  the  "managerial"   class. 

§  "Dialogues  between  Reynolds  and  Johnson."  Satire  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  1816. 
Also  Boswell's  Johnson,    Vol.    VII,  p.  zoo. 

(51) 


PERIOD  VI 

month  it  would  have  hurt  nobody's  stomach.  But  this  tea,  madam,  this  tea 
is  as  red  as  blood." 

When  Macklin  was  asked  by  one  of  the  guests  why  this  monthly 
change  from  luxury  to  frugality  of  diet  happened,  he  exclaimed  with  some 
heat : * 

"  Happen,  sir !  It  did  not  happen  at  all.  Mrs.  Woffington  is  generous 
to  a  degree,  but  Garrick,  sir,  is  parsimonious.  It  is  by  design,  by  a  studied 
economy  on  his  part  which  has  marked  him  through  all  his  life.  David  Garrick, 
sir,  makes  a  handsome  fortune  every  year  of  his  life,  but  is  too  economical 
by   nature  to   furnish  his   table." 

"He  had  then  begun  to  feel  money  in  his  purse,"  said  Dr.  Johnson  to 
Boswell,   "and  did  not  know  when   he  would  have   enough   of  it" 

The  period  of  joint  housekeeping  lasted,  I  think,  but  two  or  three 
years,  or  throughout  the  earlier  seasons  during  which  Garrick  and  Woffington 
acted  together  at  Drury  Lane.  I  am  led  to  this  conclusion  from  the  fact 
that  in  1745  we  find  Garrick  living  in  King  Street,  Covent  Garden:  he  had 
quarelled  with  Drury  Lane  and  shortly  after  went  for  a  short  period  to  Dublin 
without  her:  while  Woffington  had  departed  for  Paris  to  study  the  French  art  in 
tragedy  (whose  high  priestess  was  then  the  great  Dumesnil),  and  also  to  place 
her  sister  at  a  convent  school.  In  1746  Garrick  was  playing  at  Covent 
Garden,  while  Woffington  still  remained  at  Drury  Lane.  And  in  1747  Garrick 
began  his  acquaintance   with   Mademoiselle   Violette,  and  in    1748   married  her. 

This  would  give  no  time  later  than  the  end  of  1744  for  Woffington 
and  Garrick  to  continue  housekeeping  together. 

Indeed  Garrick's  love  seems  to  have  been  a  raging  fire  which  soon 
burnt  itself  out.  There  are  many  reasons  why  we  may  give  Woffington 
credit  for  deeper  and  more  lasting  sentiments. 

Tempers  and  dispositions  in  which  generosity  and  parsimony,  sincerity 
and  policy,  were  so  strongly  marked  as  in  Margaret  Woffington  and 
David  Garrick,  could  not  fail  but  clash  at  times.  Garrick  probably  grew 
discontented  on   noting  the   favor  with  which  the  Woffington  month  of  home- 

*  "  Mackliniana  " — European  Magazine,  May,   1800. 

(52) 


FROM  HOUSE-DRAWING   TO  HOUSE-KEEPING. 

rule  was  regarded,  and  was  irritated  by  the  fact  that  he  could  not  please  his 
guests  so  thoroughly  as  his  fair  partner  succeeded  in  doing.  This  very  likely 
produced   the   first  breach ;   and  jealousy  made  the   second. 

From  all  the  records  of  the  time  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that 
Woffington  evinced  any  change  in  her  affection  for  Garrick,  or  showed  any 
intimation  that  the  proposed  marriage  between  them  was  growing  distasteful 
to  her. 

It  is  certain  she  entertained  sentiments  of  honest  esteem  and  affection 
for  Garrick.  He  was  possessed  of  agreeable  manners,  his  person  was  elegant 
and  distinguished,  and  his  powers,  then  at  their  highest  point,  had  not  only 
secured  him  the  greatest  remuneration  but  the  loftiest  position  on  the  contempo- 
raneous stage.  His  income  must  have  been  treble  that  of  Woffington's:  but 
her  spirit  of  liberality  or  prodigality  very  likely  shocked  his  economical  instincts 
at  every  turn.  There  was  no  "  saving "  anything  with  such  a  woman — and 
David  wanted  to  save.  He  began  to  relax  in  his  attentiveness  to  her. 
With  all  the  beautiful  women  in  England  tempting  his  favor  he  could  not 
confine  it  to  one. 

Margaret  Woffington  seems   to  have  taken   his  fickleness  philosophically. 

This  peculiar  state  of  affairs,  however,  does  not  seem  to  have  broken 
off  the  engagement  of  marriage  between  the  two.  The  accounts  that  have 
come  down  to  us  contain  nothing  to  show  any  serious  disagreement  between 
the  contracting  parties  up  to  this  period.  No  sign  was  evinced  by  either  that 
the  wedding  would  not  ultimately  take  place. 

But  in  allowing  liberty  to  her  lover  Peggy  demanded  a  certain  degree  of 
freedom  for  herself,  and  instead  of  holding  him  up  to  a  strict  observance  of 
loyalty  she  accepted  the  situation  on  condition  that  the  license  should  be 
mutual.  This  conclusion  appears  to  have  been  arrived  at  amicably,  and  in 
the  independence  of  her  spirit  I  have  no  doubt  that  Woffington  did  many 
things  which  gave  her  rather  the  reputation  of  a  woman  of  wit  and  a  la  mode 
than  of  propriety  and  prudence.  She  excused  her  preference  for  the  society 
of  the  opposite  sex  on  the  ground  that  "women  never  talked  to  her  but  of 
silks  and   satins." 

(53) 


PERIOD  VI. 

She  was  undoubtedly  careless  of  the  world's  opinion,  and  was  pretty 
apt  to  do  as  she  desired.  But  in  her  case,  as  in  the  case  of  all  actresses 
of  great  beauty,  there  were,  beyond  question,  many  scandals  afloat  that  she 
had  done  nothing  to  provoke.  In  one  of  her  letters  she  refers  to  some 
damaging  gossip  of  this  very  common  kind.  The  letter  is  characteristic  of 
Peg  Woffington.  It  is  addressed  to  "Mast1  Thomas  Robinson  at  Goodwood 
in  Sussex,"  and  is  the  only  letter  in  Woffington's  hand  of  which  we  have 
any  account,   though   she  must  have   written   a  thousand. 

"My  Pretty  little  Oroonoko — I'm  glad  to  hear  of  yr  safe  arrival  in  Sussex 
and  that  you  are  so  well  placed  in  the  noble  family  of  Richmond  &c. ;  for 
which  I  have  ye  most  profound  regard  and  respect.  Sir  Thomas  Robinson 
writes  me  word  y4  you  are  very  pretty  which  has  raised  my  curiosity  to  a 
great  pitch  and   it  makes   me   long  to   see   you. 

I  hear  the  acting-poetaster  is  w*  you  still  at  Goodwood  &  has  had 
the  insolence  to  brag  of  favours  from  me — Vain  coxcomb!  I  did  indeed  by 
the  persuasion  of  Mr.  Swiney  and  his  assistance  answer  the  simpleton's 
nauseous  lettr foh  I 

He  did  well,  truly,  to  throw  my  lettr  into  the  fire,  otherwise  it  must 
have  made  him  appear  more  ridiculous  than  his  amour  at  Bath  did  or  his 
cudgel  playing  with  ye  rough  Irishman.  Saucy  Jackanapes !  To  give  it  for 
a  reason  for  ye  burning  of  my  lettr  that  there  were  expressions  in  it  too 
passionate   &   tender  to  be    shewn. 

I  did  in  an  ironical  way  (wh  the  booby  took  in  a  litteral  sense) 
complim1  both  myself  and  him  on  the  successe  we  shared  mutually  on  his  first 
appearance  on  y*5  stage  and  that  wh  he  had  (all  to  himselfe)  in  the  part  of 
Carlos*  in  "Love  Makes  a  Man,"  when  with  an  undaunted  modesty,  he  with- 
stood  the  attack   of    his    foes   armd  with   catt-calls   &   other  offensive  weapons. 

I  did  indeed  give  him  a  little  double  meaning  touch  on  the  expressive 
&   gracefull   motion  of  his   hands   &   arms   as  assistants  to   his   energetick  way 

*  During  the  season  previous  to  this  Woffington  liad  acted  with  Hallam,  who  then 
made  his  first  appearance  in  some  years  as  Carlos  in  "Love  Makes  a  Man."  Can  Hallam 
have  been  the  "Jackanapes"  she  refers  to? 

(54) 


FROM  HOUSE-DRAWING   TO  HOUSE-KEEPING. 

of  delivering  ye  poet's  sentim!f  &  wh  he  must  have  learned  from  y6  youthfull 
manner  of  spreading  plaisters  when  he  was  aprentice.  There,  these  I  say 
were  the  true  motives  to  his  burning  ye  lettr  and  no  passionate  expressions 
of  mine. 

I  play  ye  part  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair  to  night,  and  can't  recollect  w'  I 
said  to  y*  impertinent  monster  in  my  lettr,  nor  have  I  time  to  say  any  more 
now,  but  you  shall  hear  from  me  by  the  next  post;  and  if  Swiney  has  a 
copy  of  it,    or  I   can   recover   the   chief  articles   in   it  you   shall   have   'em. 

I  am    (my   Dr    Black   boy) 
with   my   Duty   to    their  Graces 
y.r   admirer  &   humble  Serv' 

Margaret  Woffington. 
Saturday   November   19th,    1743. 


(55) 


PERIOD  VII. 


FROM   PEACE  TO   RUPTURE. 


THE  theatrical  atmosphere  about  Drury  Lane  towards  the  close  of  the 
previous  season  had  been  extremely  hazy.  When  the  season  of 
1743-44  opened  it  had  increased  to  storminess.  Fleetwood  was  a 
high  liver,  and  success,  with  little  labor,  had  made  him  careless  and  reckless. 
He  was  up  to  his  neck  in  debt,  and  not  only  were  his  box-office  takings  and 
other  receipts  attached,  -but  the  bailiffs  were  frequently  in  possession  of  the 
theatre  wardrobes,  so  that  the  actors  often  could  not  get  their  costumes  for 
the  evening's  performance  without  strategy  or  bribery.  Of  course,  salaries 
were  behind,  and  in  fact  so  far  behind  that  some  of  them  were  quite  out  of 
sight  and  beyond   every  hope   of  recovery. 

In  the  midst  of  such  a  state  of  affairs,  of  course,  discipline  went  to 
the  dogs,   and  plottings  and  conspiracies  became  the  business  of  the  moment. 

Garrick  and  Macklin  seem  to  have  been  at  the  head  of  the  defection. 
But  it  is  very  probable  that  Macklin,  who  was  the  older  and  stronger  spirit, 
egged  on  his  younger  rival  to  take  part  in  a  movement  which  would  have 
been  an  idle  dream  without  him.  This  was  nothing  less  than  to  desert  from 
Drury  Lane  in  a  body;  to  form  a  commonwealth  management:  and  to  get  a  lease 
of  the  little  house  in  the  Haymarket*  which  had  for  many  years  a  precarious 
existence  as  a  summer  theatre:  having  been  everything  in  turn — tumbling-booth, 
concert-room,   lecture-room  and   theatre,   and   nothing  long.      I   do   not  know  if 

*  The  first  theatre  in  the  Haymarket  {erected  on  the  very  site  occupied  by  the  theatre  of 
Buckstone  and  Bancroft  fame)  was  planned  by  Vanbrugh,  and  built  by  Mm  in  connection  with 
Congreve  in  1705-6.  McSwiney,  wlw  afterwards  became  one  of  Woffington's  most  devoted 
admirers,  was  the  original  manager,  his  rent  being  £5  per  day.  In  1708-9  he  was  joined 
by  the  Dorset  Garden  Company  after  the  destruction  of  their  theatre. 

(56) 


I,    HAOTLEV,   fiNxr 


.    P*BER,    HCIT,    1  TAi. 


WOFFINGTON    as   "MRS.  FORD." 


FROM  PEACE  TO  RUPTURE. 

Mrs.  Clive  had  been  asked  to  join  the  conspiracy,  but  this  season  finds  her  de- 
parted from  Drury  Lane  and  playing  at  Covent  Garden.  Woffington  undoubtedly 
must  have  been  solicited,  as  Garrick  was  heart  and  soul  in  the  affair;  but 
she  certainly  did  not  countenance  the  scheme,  for  she  remained  faithful  to  the 
management,  and  for  a  time  she  was  the  strongest  card  that  Fleetwood 
carried. 

However,  the  scheme  came  to  naught.  The  conspirators  secured  their 
theatre,  but  they  could  not  get  a  license  for  their  project;  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain  was  deaf  to   their  petition,   and  so  the   enterprise   fell   still-born. 

The  chagrin  and  disappointment  of  Garrick  must  have  been  great. 
He  must  also  have  smarted  under  this  additional  proof  of  Woffington's  good 
sense.  The  seeds  of  the  discontent  between  them  must  have  sprouted  about 
this   time. 

Failing  in  the  attempt  to  open  a  rival  theatre  in  the  face  of  their  old 
manager,  the  seceding  actors  entered  into  a  compact  by  which  it  was  agreed 
between  them  that  no  one  of  their  number  was  to  accept  a  re-engagement 
from  Fleetwood  unless  all  were  taken  back.  This  was  strike  and  boycott 
combined,  quite  equal  to  anything  countenanced  in  these  later  days  by  Mr. 
Powderly's  Knights  of  Labor.  Fleetwood  after  much  persuasion  offered  to 
permit  them  all  to  return  except  Macklin,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  having 
been   the  head  and   front,   the  brains  and  body  of  the   revolt. 

In  order  to  allow  the  rest  to  fight  it  out  between  them,  and  probably 
heartily  ashamed  of  his  own  folly,  Garrick  accepted  some  engagements  in 
Dublin,  Cork  and  Limerick,  and  departed  for  Ireland,  where  he  remained 
several   months.      Mrs.   Cibber  was  also   acting   in    Dublin   about   this   time. 

From  this  distant  point  the  negotiations  for  his  return  to  Drury  Lane 
proceeded,  and  the  terms  of  surrender  finally  settled  upon  were  that  all  the 
other  actors  who  had  been  in  the  conspiracy  with  him  were  to  be  taken  back, 
except  Macklin. 

Garrick  found  himself  placed  in  a  delicate  quandary,  and  although  many 
blamed  him  for  sacrificing  his  friend  and  companion,  still  that  friend  and  com- 
panion was  heartless  enough  to  consider  only  his  own  personal  safety,  and  quite 

8  (57) 


PERIOD    VII. 

willing  to  sacrifice  to  his  own  selfish  interests  all  the  smaller  actors  whom 
he  had  coaxed  into  his  conspiracy,  and  who  would  all  be  deprived  of  a  season's 
engagement  unless   Garrick   consented    to   go  back   and    carry   them   with  him. 

A  very  lively  quarrel  grew  out  of  this,  and  the  case  of  Macklin  versus 
Garrick  became  one  of  the  causes  celebre  of  the  stage.  Pamphlet  and  handbill, 
letter  and  card,  and  in  short,  every  means  of  publicity  was  resorted  to  by 
both  parties ;  so  that  by  the  time  Garrick  returned  from  Ireland  and  his 
re-appearance  was  advertised  on  the  Drury  Lane  posters,  public  excitement 
had  quite  reached  fever  heat,  and  the  partisans  of  either  side  were  ranged 
in   a  batde  array,   very   earnest,   very   dramatic  and   exceedingly   untheatrical. 

Mrs.  Woffington,  as  I  have  shown,  remained  true  to  the  fortunes  of  the 
theatre,  and  with  her  as  a  leading  attraction  Fleetwood  had  been  able  to  gather 
a  fairly  good  company  together;  he  began  his  season  on  the  13th  of  September. 
Yates,  Theophilus  Cibber,  Delane,  Mrs.  Crow,  Mrs.  Giffard — the  wife  of  the 
former  manager  of  Goodman's  Fields  and  Garrick's  first  manager  in  London — 
were  in  Fleetwood's  company;  but  Mrs.  Pritchard  and  Kitty  Clive  had  deserted 
to  Covent  Garden,  where  Quin,  Ryan  and  Woodward  were  also  engaged, 
joined  later  by  Thomas  Sheridan,  a  heavy  tragedian,  of  the  oratorical  order, 
from  the  Irish  theatres,  who  this  season  made  his  debut  in  London.  Woffing- 
ton's  performances  of  Sylvia  and  Wildair  were  potent  attractions  at  Drury 
Lane  until  Garrick's  return ;  and  she  also  made  her  first  appearance  this 
season  as  Mrs.  Ford  in  the  revival  of  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  which 
took   place   on   November   29th. 

Merry  Mistress  Ford  must  have  been  one  of  Woffington's  most  successful 
performances,  as  the  largest  mezzotint  which  we  have  of  her,  engraved  in  her 
lifetime,  depicts  her  in  this  part.  This  print  was  reproduced  by  Noseda,  a 
London  print-seller,  early  in  this  century,  and  good  copies  of  this  reprint  are 
almost  as   scarce  as   the   original   itself. 

The  sixth  of  December  came  and  with  it  Garrick's  first  appearance  after 
the   revolt.      He  was   announced  to   play  Bayes  in   "The   Rehearsal." 

His  quarrel  with  Macklin  had  been  kept  alive  in  the  public  prints, 
and    riot    was    anticipated.       He    appeared,    but    was    not    allowed    to    speak. 

(58) 


FROM  PEACE  TO  RUPTURE. 

Macklin's  friends  were  in  the  majority.  "Off!"  "Off!"  they  shouted — and 
off  David  had  to  go.  We  are  not  informed  how  the  performance  went  on. 
It  is  very  likely  that  something  else  was  substituted,  and  Woffington's  popu- 
larity taken   advantage  of  to  satisfy  those  who   remained  to   see  the  play. 

Two  nights  later  Garrick  was  again  announced  for  Bayes,  and  this  time 
he  was  fully  prepared  for  his  opponents.  Geneste  informs  us,  that  Garrick's 
friends  were  "joined  by  30  Cruisers?  and  brute  force  won  the  day;  but  from 
that  night  on  (with  only  occasional  adverse  demonstration)  the  performances 
resumed  their  legitimate  quiet,  although  the  warfare  waged  quite  furiously  with 
ink  and  paper* 

Peggy  acted  this  season  Ophelia  to  Garrick's  "Hamlet,"  and  it  is  to 
be  noted  that  when  this  performance  was  repeated  for  Garrick's  benefit 
(March  5th,  1744)  we  have,  perhaps,  the  first  instance  on  record  of  any 
portion  of  the  Pit  being  reserved  for  "Stalls,"  or  as  it  was  announced  in  the 
bills  of  the  day,  "Five  rows  of  the  Pit  will  be  railed  into  Boxes."  Garrick  and 
Woffington  also  acted  Lord  and  Lady  Townly  for  the  first  time  this  season. 
The  first  performance  was  given  for  Mrs.  Woffington's  benefit,  and  on  that 
occasion  the  advertisements  read  that  "Six  rows  of  the  Pit  will  be  railed 
into  Boxes."  Among  Woffington's  last  representations  this  season  (which  ended 
with   May)    were  Portia  and  Lady  Anne,   the  latter  to  Garrick's  Richard. 

I  find  an  anecdote  in  Ryan's  Table  Talk  concerning  Woffington's  first 
performance  of  Portia.  All  her  critics  agree  that  her  declamation  was  accurate 
and  her  gesture,  grace  and  nature  combined;  but  in  tragic  or  even  dramatic 
speeches,  her  voice  probably  had  its  limits,  and  in  such  scenes,  being  over- 
taxed, told  against  her.  As  Portia  she  appeared  to  great  advantage,  but 
when  Lorenzo  says  "This  is  the  voice,  or  I  am  much  deceived,  of  Portia," 
Pcrtia    replies,    "He    knows    me    as    the    blind    man    knows    the    cuckoo,   by 

*  Macklin  opened  a  Scltool  for  Amateurs  after  the  contest;  he  engaged  the  Haymarket 
as  a  class-room,  and  thus  forestalled  my  friend  Steele  Mackaye's  New  York  Lyceum;  teaching 
and  giving  practice  to  his  pupils  in  the  Science  of  Natural  Acting.  His  method  was  to 
bid  Ms  scliolars  first  speak  tlte  passage  as  they  would  in  common  life,  then,  giving  them 
more  force  but  preserving  the  same  accent,  declaim  them  from  the  stage.  Foote  was  one 
of  Macklin's  pupils,   or  at  least  he  made  his  debut   with  Macklin's  Amateur   Company. 

(59) 


PERIOD    VII. 

the  bad  voice,"  the  audience  laughed  outright,  and  Woffington,  conscious 
of  her  deficiency,  with  great  good  humor  joined  with  them  in  their  demon- 
stration  of  risibility. 

The  next  season  now  began.  It  commenced  on  the  15th  of  September 
(1744)  with  the  most  perfect  of  Congreve's  comedies,  "Love  for  Love,"  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  career  Woffington  appeared  on  the  opening  night 
of  the  season.  She  played  Mrs.  Frail.  Her  next  new  part  was  Oriana  in 
"  The   Inconstant." 

Mrs.  Cibber  and  Thomas  Sheridan  were  added  to  the  company  this 
season;  Sheridan  was  a  new-comer  to  those  boards,  but  Mrs.  Cibber  had 
appeared  at  Drury  Lane  nine  years  previously.  Macklin  also  returned  this  year, 
and  also  Mills.  Macklin  on  the  occasion  of  his  re-appearance  wrote  and 
delivered  an  opening  address  or  prologue,  in  which  he  expressed  open  con- 
fession  and  contrition   for  his   former  conspiracy. 

From  scheming,  pelting,  famine  and  despair 
Behold   to   grace   restored   an   exiled   play'r : 
Your  sanction  yet  his    fortune  must  complete 
And  give  him  privilege  to  laugh  and  eat. 
No   revolution-plots  are  mine;    again 
You  see,  thank   Heaven,  the  quietest  of  men. 
Once  warned,  I   meddle  not  with   state  affairs 
But  play  my  part,  retire  and  say  my  prayers. 

Fleetwood,  however,  had  again  some  occasion,  this  season,  to  taste  the 
bitter-sweets  of  management  On  account  of  the  increased  company  and  in- 
creased salaries  he  had  the  temerity  to  advance  his  prices  of  admission,  and  the 
result  was  a  riot.  Not  one  riot,  indeed,  but  many.  The  first  demonstration 
occurred  on  the  17th  of  November  when  Woffington  was  in  the  bills  for  Phyllis 
in  "The  Conscious  Lovers."  The  play  was  stopped  and  Fleetwood  was  called 
for.  Not  being  an  actor  he  requested  Woffington  to  represent  him,  and 
offered  through  her  to  meet  any  deputation  which  the  audience  might  send 
to   confer  with   him,  in   his   own  room.      The   play  was  then  allowed  to  go  on. 

The  conference,  it  is  evident,  was  not  satisfactory,  for  when  Garrick 
appeared  two  nights  after  as  Sir  John  Brute  the "  disturbance  was  more  violent. 

(60) 


FROM  PEACE  TO  RUPTURE. 

The  play  was  not  allowed  to  be  acted,  the  seats  were  torn  up  and  the  rioters 
even  threatened  to  come  upon  the  stage  and  destroy  the  scenes.  They  were 
overcome  before  proceeding  so  far.  Nevertheless  the  destruction  they  had 
already  wrought  was  so  great  that  no  performance  could  be  given  for  a 
week.  Conciliations  were  made,  however,  and  peace  restored.  But  Fleetwood 
was  now  thoroughly  disgusted  with  management.  *  He  had  triumphed  over 
the  conspiracy  within  his  walls,  and  had  again  presented  to  the  public  a 
company  thoroughly  worthy  of  their  support,  but  when  he  attempted  to 
get  back  a  little  of  the  additional  outlay  which  all  this  had  cost  him  he  was 
met  with  resistance,  insult  and  destruction  of  his  property.  His  retirement 
from  all  active  interest  in  the  theatre  at  the  end  of  this  season  was  a  natural 
outcome  of  these  contests: — especially  to  a  man  as  easy-going  and  as  fond  of 
comfort,   and  a   martyr  withal   to  the  gout,  as   Fleetwood  was. 

A  couple  of  rich  bankers  became  the  purchasers  of  the  patent  or 
license  which  now  fell  into  the  market,  and  Fleetwood  was  allowed  ^600 
a  year  on  the  condition  that  he  retired  wholly  from  the  concern.  The 
bankers,  who  merely  went  into  the  affair  as  a  speculation,  induced  Lacy, 
at  that  time  assistant  manager  for  Rich  of  Covent  Garden,  to  assume  the 
active  management.  Thus  Drury  Lane  passed  this  season  from  one  manage- 
ment to  another. 

The  company  seem  to  have  been  transferred  with  the  patent,  although 
how  they  were   induced    to  acquiesce   in    the    transfer   has   not    been    reported. 

Striking  instances  of  Woffington's  good  nature  is  shown  in  many  of  the 
casts  this  season.  In  February  we  find  her  playing  Belinda  in  "The  Pro- 
voked Wife,"  to  the  Sir  John  and  Lady  Brute  of  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Cibber. 
At  various  times  she  resigned  characters  of  which  she  had  right  of  possession 
to  others,  among  these  Lady  Townly,  in  which  she  had  made  one  of  the 
most  pronounced  successes  during  the   previous  year. 

But  toward  the  end  of  the  season  she  was  destined  to  face  some 
bitter  disappointments  and  to  receive  a  blow  to  what  we  may  easily  believe 
to  have   been   one   of  her  dearest   hopes  and  ambitions. 

If  separate  residences  mean  anything,  then  we  find  that  in  the  spring 
of  this  year  Woffington   and  Garrick  have  quarrelled,  for  they  are  living  apart. 

(61) 


PERIOD    VII. 

In  1745  Mrs.  Woffington  is  occupying  one  of  those  delightful  villas  at 
Teddington  which  have  ever- verdant  lawns  sloping  down  to  the  Thames;*  and 
Garrick  has  a  house  in  King  Street,  Covent  Garden.  Woffington  has  brought 
her  sister  back  from  the  French  convent  school  and  has  provided  a  lovely 
home   for  her  in   this  little   Eden   upon   earth. 

It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  get  at  the  real   reasons   for  the  rupture. 

We  are  told  by  Macklin  that  the  wedding  day  had  absolutely  been 
named  and  every  preparation  made  for  the  marriage  by  Garrick  as  well  as 
Woffington. 

But  the  numerous  stories  in  connection  with  Peg  Woffington's  name 
made  Garrick  restive.  As  the  time  appointed  for  the  wedding  drew  near  he 
began  to  grow  impatient  with  her.  His  temper  became  ruffled  over  things 
that  formerly  he  regarded  with  indifference.  He  especially  objected  to  one 
of  her  most  devoted  worshippers,  Lord  Darnley,  and  even  found  fault,  we 
are  told,  with  her  popularity  on  the  stage  and  in  society,  and  reproached  her 
for  the  hospitality  with  which  she  had  received  their  mutual  guests.  There 
is  no  record  to  show  that  Woffington  grew  out  of  humor  with  him  on  these 
occasions. 

Garrick,  however,  grew  more  and  more  moody.  He  probably  reasoned 
that  he  could  gain  little  by  this  union,  It  would  hurt  his  popularity  somewhat 
with  the  feminine  portion  of  his  audience,  f  In  addition  to  these  matters  he 
possibly  reflected  that  however  high  his  fiancee  stood  in  public  esteem  as  an 
actress,  her  private  character  as  a  woman  was  far  from  being  stainless. 
Another  shining  illustration   of  the   parable   of  the   Mote  and   the  Beam. 

In   this  respect,  however,  she  was  quite  as  gpod  as  any  of  the  greater 

*  That  lovely  stretch  of  tlie  Thames  between  Hampton  and  Twickenliam  seems  to  have 
been  about  this  time,  and  to  a  later  period,  the  very  paradise  of  actors.  Garrick  had  a  villa 
..at  Hampton;  Kitty  Clive  another  not  far  off,  and  so  had  half  a  score  of  other  stage-heroes. 
Bellamy  and  Woffington  occupied  villas  at  Teddington.  It's  the  old  proverb  about  birds 
of  a  feather.  In  much  the  same  spirit  tlie  famous  French  actors  of  this  century  and  the 
last  will  be  found  nesting  by  the  Seine,  within  easy  walking  distance  of  each  other  and 
convenient  to  Paris ;  and  the  lig/its  of  our  own  stage  for  a  time  made  Long  Branch  their 
abiding-place — where  the  Booths,  the  Wallacks,  Blakes,  Mary  Anderson,  Maggie  Mitchell,  and 
other  lights  of  our  own  theatre  possessed  "liomes." 

f  "  Mackliniana  " — European  Magazine,   1800. 

(62) 


FROM  PEACE  TO  RUPTURE. 

artists  of  the  stage  of  that  period,  and  could  compare  favorably  with  most  of 
the  fine  ladies  and  famous  court-beauties  of  the  day.  But  in  the  tardy  con- 
sideration of  these  facts  Garrick  became  discontented  and  sullen.  On  the 
morning  of  the  appointed  day  he  tried  the  wedding-ring  on  Peg's  finger.* 
It  fitted  perfectly,  and  she  gayly  complimented  him  upon  his  skill  in  selecting 
it.  He  made  no  answer  to  her  pleasantries,  but  continued  in  such  a  morose 
and  gloomy  disposition  that  she  rallied  him  on  the  lack  of  sprightly  manner 
and  flow  of  spirit  usual  in  him.  As  her  humor  became  more  lively  his 
increased  in  seriousness.  Finally,  giving  up  the  attempt  to  coax  him  into  a 
cheerfulness  she  bluntly  asked  him  the  cause  of  his  depression.  He  declared 
that  it  was  the  result  of  a  bad  night's  sleep.  The  explanation  was  made 
with  so  much   hesitation   that  Woffington   would   not  accept  it. 

"And  pray  was  it  this,"  she  asked,  holding  up  the  wedding-ring  he  had 
brought  her,  "  which  has  given  you   so   restless  a   night  ? " 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "as  you  love  frankness, 
it  was;  and  in  consequence  of  it  I  have  worn  the  shirt  of  Dejanira  for  these 
last  eight  hours." 

"Then,  sir,"  she  returned  coldly,  "get  up  and  throw  it  off.  I  could 
guess  the  cause  of  your  dejection.  You  regret  the  step  you  are  about  to 
take?" 

He  made  no  reply,  and  after  a  pause  Woffington  continued,  "Well, 
sir,  we  are  not  at  the  altar,  and  if  you  possessed  ten  times  the  wealth,  fame 
and  ability  that  the  world  gives  you  credit  for,  I  would  not,  after  this  silent 
but  eloquent  confession,  become  your  wife.  From  this  hour  I  separate  myself 
from  you  except  in  the  course  of  professional  business,  or  in  the  presence 
of  a  third  person."  f 

This  speech,  we  may  be  sure,  was  delivered  with  all  the  vigor  for 
which  Margaret  Woffington  was  noted.  It  agitated  Garrick  so  much  that  for 
some    time  he  could    make   no    defence.       Finally  he    gained  courage   enough 

*  Mackliniana. — Also  Ryan's    Table    Talk,  and  private  MSS.   in  possession  of  James 
McKee,  attributed  to  Macklin. 

f  "  Mackliniana " — European   Magazine,   1800.       Also   Ryan's    Table    Talk. 

(63) 


PERIOD    VII. 

to  address  the  indignant  woman.  But  all  his  attempts  to  soothe  her  or 
excuse  himself  were  in  vain.  Woffington  kept  her  word.  She  quitted  the 
house  and  took  a  separate  town-residence  in  a  different  quarter  of  London, 
eventually  settling,   as   we   shall   see,   at  Teddington. 

All  the  presents  that  had  been  given  to  her  by  Garrick  were  promptly 
returned  to  him.  In  sending  back  those  which  he  had  received  from  Woffington 
Garrick,  however,  neglected  to  include  a  certain  pair  of  diamond  shoe-buckles  for 
which  she  had  paid  a  good  sum  of  money.  Some  time  after  the  affair  she  recol- 
lected the  gift  of  these,  and  sent  him  a  polite  note  as  a  reminder  that  they 
were  still  in  his  possession.  To  this  Garrick  replied,  that  as  the  buckles  were 
all  he  had  to  recall  his  many  hours  of  happiness  with  lovely  Peggy  he  trusted 
she  would  allow  him  to  retain  them.  Woffington  had  too  much  spirit  to  ask 
for  them  a  second  time  and  Garrick  wore  the  diamond  buckles  until  he  left 
the  stage.* 

This  episode  was  soon  noised  abroad  by  the  gossips  and  the  affair  fur- 
nished an  excellent  theme  for  the  wits.  A  caricature,  making  sport  of  David's 
share  in  the  matter,  appeared  in  the  print  shops,  and  gave  as  much  annoyance 
to  the  actor  as   it  afforded  amusement  to   the   public. 

*  European  Magazine,  June,  1800. 


(64) 


JOHANNES  AGIDIUS  ECCARD,  fihun 


L    FABER,  FECIT,   17*«. 


WOFFIKGTON     in    1745. 


PERIOD    VIII. 


FROM   CONTEST  TO  CONTEST. 


THE  heart  must  have  something  to  occupy  it.      Love  or  hate  or  avarice 
are  ever    knocking    at    its    portal.      Failing  one  object  we    take  up 
another    to   fill  the  craving  which  comes  with  the   first  beginnings  of 
reason. 

It  might  reasonably  be  inferred  that  selfishness,  or  its  twin  dwarf  conceit, 
would  grow  out  of  the  nature  of  a  woman  so  universally  flattered  as  Margaret 
Woffington.  Yet  all  the  dramatic  writers  of  a  century  ago  unite  in  rendering 
high  testimony  to   the  absence   of  either  disagreeable  trait  in  her. 

They  allude  with  repeated  exclamations  of  surprise  and  commendation 
to  the  filial  care  with  which,  in  the  midst  of  flatteries  and  triumphs  enough  to 
turn  any  other  woman's  head,  she  cherished  her  mother,  and  to  the  affectionate 
and  solicitous  guardianship  she  exercised  over  her  younger  sister.  Margaret 
corresponded  constantly  with  old  Mrs.  Woffington  and  sent  her  presents  as 
often  as  she  could  afford  them.*  She  secured  to  her  mother  a  regular  annuity 
of  forty  pounds  a  year,  and  paid,  in  addition  to  this  allowance,  for  all  clothing 
desired  by  the   old   lady. 

In  O'Keefe's  Recollection  he  tells  how  great  and  pleasant  a  change 
had  come  to  the  circumstances  of  the  widow  since  she  used  to  peddle  water- 
cress through  the  back  streets  of  Dublin.  "Through  the  filial  affection  of  her 
celebrated  daughter,"  he  says,  "Mrs.  Woffington  is  now  comfortably  supported: 
a  respectable  looking  old  lady  in  a  black  velvet  cloak  with  deep   rich  fringe, 

*  O'Keefe's  Recollections,  Vol.  I.      Also  private   Macklin  MSS. 
9  (65) 


PERIOD   VIII. 

a  diamond  ring  on  her  finger,  and  an  agate  snuff-box.  She  has  nothing  to 
mind  but  going  the  rounds  of  the  Catholic  churches  and  chatting  with  her 
neighbours   about  the   fame  and  goodness   of   her  daughter  in   England." 

Hitchcock  devotes  a  chapter  to  extolling  this  excellent  feature  in  Peg 
Woffington's  character  and  winds  up  by  saying,  "Let  the  rigid  who  cannot 
overlook  her  transgressions  imitate  her  perfections.  If  they  do  not  choose  to 
give  any  grains  of  allowance  to  the  temptations  that  beset  her,  and  if  they 
cannot  think  there  is  any  excuse  for  living  like  her,  let  them  be  careful  to 
die   like  her." 

Or,  he  might  have  added,  as  one  of  Mrs.  Oldfield's  memorialists  wrote 
of  that  rare  actress: — 

"When   mourning,   Oldfield  on  her  death-bed  lay — 
Oldfield  the  fair,  the  witty  and  the    gay, 
Thus  to  her  friends  around    her  she   did   cry — 
Live  not  like  Oldfield,  but  like  Oldfield  die." 

Woffington's  sister  was  a  still  greater  recipient  of  her  generosity: 
nothing  was  left  undone  to  give  her  the  finest  education  that  a  lady  could  have. 
Indeed,  Woffington  spared  no  expense  to  fit  her  sister  for  an  elevated  position 
in  society.  Besides  paying  all  the  fees  of  her  tuition  and  maintenance  at  a 
famous  seminary  for  young  ladies,  she  furnished  Polly  with  a  regular  allow- 
ance of  pocket-money  which  was  greater  than  that  received  by  any  other 
pupil  and  equal  to  the  pin-money  of  many  a  nobleman's  daughter.*  When 
Polly's  education  had  been  finished:  when  she  had  gained  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  the  languages,  painting,  music  and  embroidery,  as  well  as  such  other 
matters  as  were  deemed  essential  to  a  young  woman  of  good  family  and 
high  position  in  respectable  society,  Peg  Woffington  brought  her  home  and  in  a 
series  of  well  considered  and  carefully  peopled  "  receptions "  presented  her  to 
some  of  the  most  refined  and  brilliant  people  in  England,  f  She  was  especially 
cautious  in  the  selection  of  the  young  debutante's  associates.  Only  men  and 
women  whose  acquaintance  was  desirable  and  proper  were  permitted  to  meet  her. 
Lee  Lewes  tells   us   that   Mary   Woffington   was    in   some  respects   more 

*  Lewes'  Memoirs,   Vol.  II. 

f  BoswelVs  Johnson.      Also  Madame  UArblay's  Diary  and  Letters. 

(66) 


FROM  CONTEST  TO   CONTEST. 

beautiful  than  her  famous  sister.  Her  features  were  more  classical,  her 
face  had  the  refinement  of  one  that  had  been  delicately  nurtured,  and  her 
manners  had  acquired  grace  by  the  mastery  of  every  accomplishment.  She 
was  not,  however,  possessed  of  the  generous  gifts  which  were  the  distinguishing 
characteristics  of  the  actress.  *  Polly  appears  to  have  been  flippant  rather  than 
witty,  and  lively  without  being  brilliant.  She  was  easily  flattered  and  not  of 
a  thoughtful  mood.  The  admiration  created  by  her  loveliness  and  the  compli- 
ments paid  to  her  by  distinguished  people  soon  turned  a  young  head  that 
was  not  any  too  well  stored  with  reflective  qualities,  f  She  ascribed  her  quick 
success  in  society  wholly  to  her  own  pleasing  graces,  and  did  not  realize  that 
she  was  courted  mainly  because  of  the  great  reputation  of  her  sister.J  The 
discovery  of  this  thoughtless  disposition  gave  much  anxious  concern  to  Mar- 
garet Woffington.  It  was  natural  that  after  her  own  success  on  the  stage 
she  should  consider  the  theatre  a  proper  ambition  for  Polly.  §  Her  friends 
also  urged  a  dramatic  career  for  the  young  girl,  not  only  on  account  of  the 
probability  that  a  histrionic  talent  so  great  in  the  elder  sister  must  be  shared 
in  some  measure  by  the  younger,  but  also  in  view  of  the  surpassing  beauty 
of  Polly's  face  and  the  grace  of  her  manners.  ||  With  charms  so  well  adapted 
for  the  stage  they  believed  that  Mary  Woffington  could  achieve  a  success 
commensurate  with   Margaret's   if  not  beyond   it. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  Mary  Woffington's  debut  took  place  in  Dublin 
under  Thomas  Sheridan's  auspices.  The  date  given  for  this  event  was  March 
30th,  1744.  But  there  is  no  warrant  for  such  data.  Sheridan  at  that  time  was 
in  London  preparing  for  his  own  debut  -at  Covent  Garden.  It  has  been  further- 
more given  out  that  Miss  Bellamy,  the  future  stage  beauty  of  that  name,  also 
made  her  debut  on  the  same  evening,  and  while  she  triumphed—  Polly  Wof- 
fington  failed.      This  is,   also,  mere  romance. 

As  children  and  in   a  children's   entertainment  these  two  young   Misses 

*  D'Arblay. 

t  Letter  from  Mrs.    Thrale  to  Mrs.   Burney. 

\  Taylor's  Records.  1 

§  Boswell's  Johnson. 

||  Mrs.   Bellamy's  Apology. 

(67) 


PERIOD  VIII. 

did  play  opposite  parts,  but  the  occasion  was  altogether  a  private  one,  and 
took  place  at  their  home  in  Teddington,  where  the  two  families  of  Woffington 
and   Bellamy  were  residing  at  the  time.* 

The  circumstances  attending  Polly's  entrance  on  die  stage  were  par- 
ticularly favorable.  She  had  received  the  solicitous  training  of  her  sister  in  a 
character  which  the  latter  had  often  acted. 

The  occasion  selected  for  the  public  debut  was  Margaret  Woffington's 
annual  benefit,  which  took  place  that  season  (1744-5)  on  the  30th  of  March.  "The 
Beaux  Stratagem"  was  acted,  with  Garrick  as  Scrub  (one  of  his  least  successful 
performances),  and  Cherry  was  cast  to  the  debutante,  who  was  announced  in  the 
bills  as  "Miss  M.  Woffington,"  "being  her  first  appearance  on  any  stage." 
Peggy  spoke  an  original  epilogue,  written  for  the  occasion.  It  has  not  been 
preserved — more's  the  pity. 

The  attempt,  however,  was  a  failure.  Polly  was  the  possessor  of  too 
much  vanity  and  too  little  intelligence  for  stage-work.  The  audience  was  polite 
and  endeavored  to  make  charitable  allowances  for  her  youth  and  inexperience. 
But,  to  Margaret  Woffington's  infinite  disappointment,  it  was  proven  beyond 
any  degree  of  doubt  that  her  sister  would  never  be   successful   on   the   stage. 

From  that  moment  Peg  Woffington  planned  another  career  for  Polly. 
Her  greater  success  in   the   new  path  will  be   related  in   its   place. 

The  season  this  year  did  not  end  until  June,  but  Mrs.  Woffington  did 
not  perform  after  the  middle  of  April,  and  Garrick  was  seized  with  an  illness, 
quoted  at  the  time  as  dangerous,  and  only  played  a  night  or  two  after  Mary 
Woffington's  debut.  Margaret  Woffington  lost  an  old  friend  by  death  this 
year  in  the  decease  of  Charles  Coffey,  the  author  of  the  farce  "  Devil  to  Pay," 
who  had  been  one  of  the  first  persons  to  take  an  interest  in  her  when  a  child. 

It  is  also  to  be  noted  as  an  interesting  incident  of  this  theatrical  season 
that  Colley  Cibber  took  his  final  farewell  of  the  stage  at  Covent  Garden  on  the 
26th   of  February    (1745).      "Farewell"   engagements    and    "farewell"   benefits 

*  George  Anne  Bellamy  made  her  first  appearance  in  public  prior  to  Mary  Wojfington's 
debut.  It  occurred  at  Covent  Garden  on  the  22d  of  November,  1744.  She  played  Monimia 
in  Otway's  "  Orphan;  "  and  Quin,  who  at  first  fought  against  playing  Chamont  to  "a  child". — 
allowing  himself  to  be  overruled  by  Rich,  afterwards  became  one  of  her  most  devoted  admirers. 

(68) 


FROM  CONTEST  TO   CONTEST. 

appear  to  have  been  as  common  to  the  theatres  of  the  last  century  as  in  this : 
and  as  long  as  they  continue   "profitable,"   I   suppose   they  will  prevail. 

Poor  old  Colley  Cibber  had  long  been  almost  toothless,  and  had  for 
some  time  mumbled  rather  than  spoken  his  lines,  but  he  lived  on  until  1757, 
and  was  finally  buried  (so  Lawrence  Hutton  tells  us  in  his  Literary  Landmarks 
of  London)  beside  his  father  and  mother  in  the  Danish  Church  in  Wellclose 
Square,  Ratcliff  Highway,  and  not  in  St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  or  in  West- 
minster Abbey,   as   some  have   stated. 

The  next  season,  Woffington's  fifth  in  London,  began  at  Drury  Lane  on 
the  19th  of  September  (1745),  and  on  the  opening  night  Barrington  and 
Sparks,  two  of  the  "juveniles  "  who  with  Peggy  had  been  with  Madame  Violante's 
troop  of  Lilliputians  when  she  produced  the  "Beggars'  Opera"  in  Dublin, — 
made  their  first  appearance  in  London.  Both  came  into  immediate  favor  and 
continued   to   be  metropolitan   favorites   for  many  years. 

Lacy  became  manager-in-chief  of  Drury  Lane  this  year,  but  it  must  be 
confessed  that  he  began  his  reign  amid  a  sea  of  trouble.  The  Jacobite  insur- 
rection at  the  North  started  in  with  the  season,  and  Lacy,  with  keen  instinct  for 
a  good  advertisement  quite  worthy  of  some  of  our  modern  Barnums,  applied  for 
leave  to  raise  a  Regiment  of  Actors  in  defense  of  His  Majesty's  person  against 
the  young   Pretender. 

Notwithstanding  this  neat  bid  for  patriotic  patronage  all  the  theatres  were 
but  poorly  attended,  and  Drury  Lane  as  badly  as  any,  in  spite  of  exceedingly 
strong  attractions  and  of  a  special  revival  of  "The  Nonjuror,"  which  was 
thought  quite  appropriate  and  timely  on  account  of  its  suggestive  political  and 
patriotic  hits. 

Woffington  was  taken  ill  before  the  play  began,  and  her  part  had  to  be 
read.  I  fancy  the  large-hearted  Irishwoman  may  have  been  a  strong  sympathizer 
with   Prince   Charley,   and  had  little   interest  in   local   flings   at  his   expense. 

Kitty  Clive  (who  had  been  without  any  engagement  the  previous  season, 

being  one  of  the  bitterest  of  the  clique  who   supported   Macklin   in   his   revolt) 

now  came  back  to  Drury  Lane,   and  we    find  Woffington,  with   the    best  grace 

in  the  world,  yielding  the   part  of   Portia  to   Kitty,   in    which  the  latter  made 

her  re-appearance. 

(69) 


PERIOD   VIII. 

Foote  also  became  a  member  of  the  regular  company,  but  only  to  leave  it 
shortly  afterwards  to  make  capital  out  of  his  green-point  experiences  in  an  extrava- 
gant burlesque  which  he  wrote  under  the  title  of  "Green-room  Squabbles."  Wof- 
fington  permitted  Foote  to  make  a  trial  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  but  I  find  that 
he  only  gave  one  performance  of  the  part.  Peggy's  old  fellow-actor  in  Violante's 
juvenile  corps,  Barrington,  made  great  headway  this  season,  especially  in  such 
parts  as    Teague,  which  Lacy  had   formerly  acted  with   much  applause. 

Yet  nothing  seemed  to  draw.  Revivals  were  given  of  certain  plays  of 
Shakspere:  "The  Tempest"  (Clive  must  have  made  a  material  Ariel)  and  "Meas- 
ure for  Measure,"  with  Woffington  as  Isabella  for  the  first  time;  still  nothing  at- 
tracted the  town.  Not  even  a  revival  of  "The  Humors  of  the  Army,"  with 
Woffington  in  a  new  breeches-part,  attracted  more  than  momentary  attention.  The 
Rebellion  in  Scotland  claimed  all  interest  as  the  great   Spectacle  of  the  day. 

Garrick,  who  had  foreseen  the  storm,  was  acting  in  Ireland  most  of  this 
season,  and  there  is  little  doubt  that  by  this  time  a  total  separation  had  taken 
place  between  himself  and  Peggy.  When  he  did  return  to  town  (late  in  May,  1 746) 
he  played  at  Covent  Garden  for  six  nights,  his  terms  being  no  less  than  an  equal 
division  of  the  profits  of  his  performances.  It  is  thus  to  be  seen  that  Garrick 
had  at  this  period  arrived  at  a  pretty  good  estimate  of  himself  and  of  his  value 
to  the  theatre.  He  continued  at  Covent  Garden  throughout  the  following 
season,  and  during  that  term  (1746-47)  things  went  from  bad  to  worse  with 
both  theatres;  especially  Drury  Lane.  The  general  business  of  the  country 
was  paralyzed.  The  only  house  which  may  be  said  to  have  enjoyed  "a 
run"   was  the   Bank  of  England. 

Bankers  suffered  naturally,  and  the  firm  which  had  backed  Lacy  was 
among  the  first  to   fail. 

Things  in  general  seemed  to  be  at  their  bluest  hue.  However,  Lacy's 
company  stood  by  him,  and,  leading  off  with  Woffington,  they  waited  patiently 
for  better  times,   and  took  their  salaries  as   they  could  get  them. 

In  the  midst  of  all  his  anxieties  Lacy's  mind  remained  level,  and  out  of 
his  troubles  he  evolved  a  scheme  which  brought  him  triumphantly  ahead. 
Finding  no  mere   salary  could  tempt  Garrick  back  to  the  theatre,  he  hit  upon 

(7o) 


FROM  CONTEST  TO   CONTEST. 

the  brilliant  idea  of  offering  him  a  partnership.  The  bait  caught.  It  took  some 
time  to  complete  the  negotiations,  but  eventually  Garrick  was  induced  to  buy  a 
half  interest  in  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  for  which  (so  say  Murphy  and  Davies)  he 
paid  ,£8,000.  In  addition  to  his  share  of  the  profits  he  was  to  have  a  stated 
sum  every  time  he  acted,  and  another  fixed  amount  for  such  literary  work  as 
he  might  do  for  the  theatre.  But  although  all  these  points  were  settled  within 
that  season,  Garrick  did  not  assume  control  at  Drury  Lane  till  the  expiration 
of  his  contract  at  Covent  Garden,  which  covered  the  then  current  theatrical 
year. 

A  new  light  entered  Drury  Lane  Theatre  this  season  and  shone  in  the 
talents  of  a  remarkable  tragic  actor  named  Spranger  Barry,  who  came  that  year 
from   Ireland  and  made  his   debut  as  Othello  on   the   4th   of  October  (1746). 

Barry's  success  was  extraordinary  from  his  very  first  performance,  and  at 
length  the  English  Roscius  had  a  rival  worthy  of  his  very  utmost  efforts. 
Woffington  did  not  act  with  Barry  until  January  3d  (1747),  when  they  played 
Lord  and  Lady  Townly,  and  with  such  an  instantaneous  and  irresistible  success 
that  "The  Provoked  Husband"  was  acted  for  seven  consecutive  times:  a  rare 
event   in   those   days. 

Woffington  and  Barry  almost  duplicated  this  success  when  they  acted 
Lady  Percy  and  Hotspur  a  couple  of  weeks  later;  and  also  in  "All  for  Love," 
when   he  was  seen  as  Antony  and   she  as  Cleopatra. 

The  town  evidently  found  a  new  and  abiding  delight  in  watching  these 
fresh  triumphs  of  their  old  favorite  Peggy  in  conjunction  with  their  new 
favorite,   the   "silver   tongued"    Spranger   Barry. 

From  contemporaneous  criticism  it  is  hard  to  decide  which  was  the 
most  admired  by  the  public,  Garrick  or  Barry.  I  think  Barry  was  for  a  longer 
continuous  period  the  favorite  of  the  playgoers  of  his  time,  at  least  his  public 
career  is  marked  by  fewer  fluctuations  of  popular  favor  than  that  of  Garrick ; 
and  it  is  certain  that  after  Barry  began  to  act  Othello,  Garrick  dropped  die  part 
out  of  his  repertory.  In  Romeo  and  Lear,  which  they  afterwards  acted  against 
one  other,  they  had  each  the  most  violent  partisans,  and  if  it  must  be  admitted 
that  Garrick  came  out  ahead  in  the  press,  it  is  because  he  descended  to  curry 

(7i) 


PERIOD    VIII. 

favor  with  the  writers  of  his  time:  to  meet,  to  solicit,  to  entertain  and  to  flatter 
them  to  a  degree  never  but  once  since  his  time  paralleled  upon  the  English 
stage  by  a  favorite  actor:  one  who  really  could  (as  Garrick  might)  have  afforded 
to  stand  independendy  and  proudly  upon   his   own   merits. 

This  was  the  last  season  during  his  career  in  London  that  Garrick  acted 
out  of  Drury  Lane,  except  for  an  occasional  benefit.  He  certainly  made  his 
farewell  nights  at  Covent  Garden  most  brilliant;  especially  on  the  few  notable 
evenings  when  he  acted  with  Quin  and  Mrs.  Cibber,  and  pre-eminently  when 
the  trio  played  in  "The  Fair  Penitent,"  in  "Henry  the  Fourth"  and  in  "King 
Lear."  Garrick  made  no  success  as  Hotspur;  he  never  played  it  after  this 
season,  and  finally  resigned  the  part  to  Barry,  whose  hit,  as  I  have  before 
noted,   was  almost  phenomenal. 

My  memorial  now  brings  me  to  a  season  of  undoubted  prosperity  for 
Drury  Lane,  but  also  a  season  of  internal  bickerings,  jealousies  and  wrangles 
almost  without  parallel   in   the  history   of  that  theatre.  - 

The  opening  night  of  the  season  of  1747-8  was  September  15th,  the  play 
was  "The  Merchant  of  Venice."  Macklin  played  Shylock,  Mrs.  Clive  Portia, 
and   Peg  Woffington  spoke  an   original   Epilogue. 

That  famous  Prologue  by  Dr.  Johnson — "And  we  who  live  to  please 
must  please  to  live,"  was  written  for  this  occasion  and  intended  for  delivery 
by  Garrick:  but  he  was  too  ill  to  appear,  and  the  verses  were  printed  in- 
stead and  distributed  through   the   house. 

When  the  modern  Roscius  returned  to  Drury  Lane,  as  its  chief,  he  found 
himself  placed  in  a  position  which  was  no  less  disagreeable  to  his  own  mind 
than  to  Margaret  Woffington's.  Garrick  had  brought  with  him  from  Covent 
Garden  his  former  sweetheart's  most  envious  rivals,  Mrs.  Cibber  and  Mrs. 
Pritchard.  In  the  Drury  Lane  company  Woffington  had  been  already  annoyed 
by  the  open  enmity  of  Mrs.  Clive,  and  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
this  triumvirate  of  clever  women  made  the  final  months  of  the  season  a  good 
deal  of  an   earthly  hades   for   Peg  Woffington. 

That  she  was  subjected  to  annoyances  as  bitter  as  they  were  habitual  is 
attested  by  several  writers.     Mrs.  Cibber  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  both  were  Woffing- 

(72) 


FROM  CONTEST  TO   CONTEST. 

ton's  open  enemies  and  took  every  opportunity  to  vent  their  dislike  before 
the  visitors  to  the  green-room.  These  ladies,  however,  were  easily  silenced  by 
her  superior  wit  and  pungent  sarcasm.  But  Mrs.  Clive  was  a  more  aggravating 
antagonist. 

This  actress  had  for  many  years  prior  to  Woffington's  ascendency 
achieved  popularity  on  the  stage.  She  seems  to  have  been  an  excellent 
actress  in  a  variety  of  comedy  parts,  but  apparently  a  genius  in  none.  The 
youth,  the  greater  beauty,  and  the  persistent  success  of  the  fair  Woffington 
had  filled  Kitty  with  more  than  natural  jealousy.  She  lost  no  chance  behind 
the  curtain   to   smirch  the  laurels  that  Woffington,,  gained  in   front  of  it. 

From  the  accounts  we  have  of  her  private  life  it  is  possible  that 
Mrs.  Clive  was  a  highly  disagreeable  person  to  quarrel  with.  She  had  a 
coarse,  vulgar  nature,  and  was  a  perfect  mistress  of  invective.  Being  a  per- 
fecdy  "proper"  woman,  as  the  saying  goes,  she  carried  herself  as  a  very  superior 
person  to  her  less  "goody"  sisters  of  the  theatre.  We  all  know  what  a  sharp 
thorn  the  "Paragon  of  Virtue"  can  make  herself  if  she  be  leavened  with 
the  pharisaical   spirit 

Lee  Lewes  says  that  to  a  conceit  inconceivable  Clive  joined  a  passionate 
temper  that  knew  neither  government  nor  reason:  with  a  volume  of  language 
such  as  is  only  given  to  her  sex:  and  a  command  of  vituperation  that  was  not 
hindered  by   delicacy   nor  confined  by  wit 

Kitty  Clive,  therefore,  was  a  formidable  creature  to  be  at  odds  with.  Peg 
Woffington  found  her  so.  The  wordy  battles  between  these  two  ladies  were  a 
source  of  much  amusement  to  those  who  were  permitted  to  frequent  the  green- 
room. The  men  of  fashion  and  wit  took  sides  in  the  controversy,  as  the  freak 
of  the  moment  actuated  them,  and  encouraged  their  favorites  to  continual 
warfare. 

"No  two  women  in  high  life  ever  hated  each  other  more  unreservedly 
than  these  great  dames  of  the  theatre,"  says  Davies,  "but  though  the 
passions  of  each  were  as  lofty  as  those  of  a  Duchess,  yet  they  wanted  the 
courtly  art  of  concealing  them,  and  this  occasioned  now  and  then  a  very 
grotesque  scene  in  the  green-room.      Woffington  was  well-bred,  seemingly  very 

10  (73) 


PERIOD    VIII. 

calm,  and  at  all  times  mistress  of  herself.  Clive  was  arrogant,  high  tempered 
and  impetuous.  What  came  uppermost  in  her  mind  she  spoke  without  reserve. 
Woffington  blunted  the  sharp  speeches  of  Clive  by  her  apparently  civil,  but 
ever  keen  and  sarcastic  replies.  Thus  she  often  threw  Kitty  off  guard  by 
an  arch  severity  which  the  other   could  not  easily  parry." 

"Mrs.  Clive  being  naturally  quick  as  well  as  coarse  in  her  passion,"  says 
Macklin,  "frequently  drew  upon  her  the  sarcastic  replies  of  Woffington,  who 
made  battle  with  a  better  grace  and  the  utmost  composure   of  temper." 

The  wit  and  repartee  of  the  green-room  in  those  days  was  undoubtedly 
more  sarcastic  than   refined,   and  more  pungent  than   delicate. 

The  quarrels  of  these  two  clever  women  sometimes  went  to  further 
extremes  than  the  limits  of  language,  and,  finally,  culminated  this  season  when 
"Henry  the  Fourth"  was  produced  with  Barry  as  Hotspur,  Berry  as  Falstaff, 
and  Woffington  as  Lddy  Percy. 

Woffington  had  consented  to  play  this  very  slender  part  out  of  an  amiable 
desire  for  the  success  of  the  production, — a  complaisance  which  was  highly 
praised  by  the  critics  at  that  time  as  an  instance  of  fine  sense  of  duty  in 
an   actress  so   famous   for   her  talent. 

Mrs.  Clive,  who  was  not  acting  in  the  drama,  gained  considerable  satis- 
faction from  her  rival's  slight  opportunities  for  popular  favor.  At  the  fall 
of  the  curtain  she  sneeringly  condoled  with  Woffington  on  the  smallness  of  the 
part  and  the  scanty  chance  for  applause  it  afforded.  This  produced  from 
Peggy  a  keen  retort  that  made  Clive  furious.  She  began  immediately  to  abuse 
her  rival  in  a  torrent  of  vituperation.  Woffington  happened  to  be  in  no  very 
amiable  humor  that  evening,  and  Mrs.  Clive  attacked  her  at  a  moment  when 
she  was  in  too  angry  a  mood  to  defend  herself  by  her  natural  weapons-  of 
wit  or  sarcasm. 

The  two  women  grew  more  and  more  savage  in  their  language,  and 
finally   Clive  struck  Peggy. 

A  blow  was  too  much  fpr  her  Irish  nature  to  stand:  Woffington  replied 
with    a    resounding    smack ;     and    for    a    few „  moments    the    two    fought  like 

(74) 


FROM  CONTEST  TO   CONTEST. 

Amazons.*  The  quarrel  was  taken  up  by  several  admirers  of  the  actresses,  and 
in  a  short  time  there  was  almost  a  pitched  battle  in  the  green-room.  This 
created  such  an  uproar  behind  the  scenes  that  there  was  danger  of  the 
audience,  which  was  just  quitting  the  theatre,  being  alarmed  by  the  tumult. 
Mr.  Berry,  assisted  by  several  of  the  players,  ultimately  succeeded  in  quelling 
the  outburst.  But  the  incident  was  seized  hold  of  by  the  papers,  and  the  print- 
shops  made  large  sales  of  a  caricature  of  the  affair,  entitled  "The  Green-room 
Scuffle."  The  affair  also  found  its  way  upon  the  stage  through  the  piece 
written  and  acted  by  Foote  and  produced  at  the  Haymarket,  of  which  I  have 
already  made  note  in  a  previous  place. 

Contentions  both  in  front  and  rear  of  the  curtain  were  little  suited  to 
Woffington's  humor.  She  was  possessed  of  too  much  spirit,  however,  to  be 
vanquished  by  her  enemies  in  the  company,  or  disheartened  by  outside 
influences. 

It  is  probable  that  she  would  have  continued  at  Drury  Lane  had  not 
other  events  happened  which  capped  the  previous  annoyances  of  her  engagement. 

For  some  time,  we  are  told,  Garrick  had  sought  to  renew  his  former 
friendship  with  Woffington.  But  she  was  true  to  her  first  word,  and 
steadily  declined  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him  except  in  a  professional 
capacity,  or  in  the  presence  of  a  third  party. 

Garrick  was  stung  to  the  quick  by  the  steady  coldness  of  her  manner 
toward  him.  And  in  one  of  the  prints  of  the  day  he  flung  at  her  a  Parthian 
dart  in  the  shape  of  another  set  of  verses,  which  were  not  by  any  means 
akin  to  his  former  odes.      The  lines  began — 

"I  know  your  sophistry,  I  know  your  art, 

Which  all  your  dupes  and  fools  control: 
Yourself  you  give  without  your  heart — 

All  may  share  that — but  not  your  soul." 

And  beyond  this,  Woffington  had  to  sustain  less  bearable  slights  from 
Garrick;  slights  much  more  annoying  to  the  Actress:  new  plays  produced  with- 
out her,  old  plays  revived  and  her  former  parts  given  to  others.     In  a  revival  of 

*  Lee  Lewes'   Memoirs. 

(75) 


PERIOD   VIII. 

"She  Would  and  She  Wouldn't"  Mrs.  Pritchard  was  given  Hypollita,  Clive 
Rosara,  and  Woffington  cast  to  the  lesser  part  of  Flora. 

For  these  reasons  and  in  a  fit  of  frenzy  she  abruptly  severed  her 
connection  with  Drury  Lane  (her  name  appears  for  the  last  time  in  the  bills 
of  that  theatre  for  Phyllis  in  "Conscious  Lovers,"  April  15th,  1748),  and  she 
went  to  Paris   for  a  vacation. 

Her  vacation  lasted  several  months. 

In  Paris  she  did  not  waste  her  time  on  mere  pleasure  seeking,  or  in 
vain  regrets.  Sensible,  clear-headed  Woffington  again  devoted  herself  to  a 
study  of  the  French  stage,  its  methods,  and  its  possibilities.  It  was  upon 
this  occasion  she  is  said  to  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  great  Dumesnil, 
at  that  time  the  first  tragic  actress  of  the   Parisian   theatres. 

Woffington  profited  beyond  measure,  we  are  told,  by  the  study  of 
Dumesnil's  art,  so  that  on  her  return  to  England  she  felt  confident  of  her 
ability  to  portray  heroic  parts  with  as  much  force  as  she  had  hitherto  given 
to  comedy. 


(76) 


(*.  VAN   BLbECK.    Nftx  i. 


WOFFINQTON    in    1747. 


PERIOD    IX. 


FROM  STAGE  TO  DRAWING-ROOM. 


WOFFINGTON'S  companion  upon  this  visit  to  Paris  was  her  sister. 
-  After  the  failure  of  her  plan  for  Polly's  future,  Margaret  Wof- 
fington  thought  of  little  else  than  an  honorable  and  advantageous 
marriage  for  the  girl.  At  a  charity  benefit  given  in  aid  of  some  worthy 
object  at  Covent  Garden  early  that  year  she  had  permitted  Polly  to  dance, 
and  there  happened  to  be  among  the  audience  one  Captain  George  Chol- 
mondeley,  second  son  to  Lord  Cholmondeley :  a  young  gentleman  of  handsome 
person,  but  possessed  of  no  estate  further  than  his  pay  as  Captain  in  the 
army.  This  young  officer  became  so  enamored  of  the  fair  dancer  that  he  very 
shortly  after  sought  her  hand  in  marriage.  The  offer  was  a  desirable  one 
only  in  the  matter  of  aristocratic  connection.  The  young  man's  wife  would 
be  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Cholmondeley,  and  a  member  of  one  of  the  noble 
families  of  England,  but  her  husband  could  not  support  a  family  in  the  style 
befitting  that  position.  Peg  Woffington  had  once  built  hopes  of  a  better  match  for 
her  beautiful  sister.  But  reflecting  upon  the  very  high  character  of  young  Chol- 
mondeley, and  the  dignity  of  his  station  in  society,  as  well  as  the  dangers 
that  beset  a  girl  so  youthful,  so  thoughtless  and  so  bewitching  as  Polly,  Mar- 
garet thought  it  prudent  to  give  her  immediate  consent  to  their  union.  The 
marriage  took  place  soon  after  the  two  sisters  returned  to  London  from  Paris, 
v/here  Woffington  very  probably  purchased  the  trousseau;  and  the  ceremony 
was  attended  by  a  tremendous   company. 

Margaret  procured  them  a  house  in  Westminster  parish,  furnished  it  hand- 

(77) 


PERIOD  IX. 

somely  and  allowed  the  young  couple  an  income  that  would  maintain  their  pro- 
per position.*  Not  only  was  Lord  Cholmondeley  very  irate  when  he  heard  that 
his  son  had  wedded  the  sister  of  an  actress,  but  all  his  family  connections 
shared  his  disgust  f  He  posted  up  to  London  in  haste,  in  order  to  devise 
some  means  whereby  the  marriage  might  be  annulled.  But  a  single  interview 
with  Peg  Woffington  changed  his  indignation  into  pleasure  over  the  affair. 
He  graciously  informed  her  that  her  graces,  beauty  and  charm  had  quite 
reconciled  him  to  his  son's  wedding  with  her  sister.  "My  Lord,"  she  said 
with  a  saucy  dignity,  "I  have  much  more  reason  to  be  offended  at  it  than 
your  Lordship,  for  whereas  I '  had  before  but  one  beggar  to  support,  I  now 
have  two."  Woffington's  pride  and  independence  were  not  surpassed  by  any 
high  society  dame   of  her  day. 

Polly  immediately  bloomed  into  such  a  leader  of  fine  society  that  the 
"  Honorable  Mrs.  •  Cholmondeley's "  house  very  soon  became  the  meeting-place 
of  famous  and  fashionable  folk. 

In  Fanny  Burney's  Diary  are  to  be  found  many  detailed  accounts  of 
the  polite  world  one  might  discover  at  Mrs.  Cholmondeley's,  and  of  the  brilliant 
company  to  be  met,  and  the  witty  conversations  carried  on  there.  It  seems 
that  soon  after  his  marriage  to  Polly,  Captain  Cholmondeley  resigned  from 
the  army  and  took  clerical  orders.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  man 
of  any  very  pronounced  ability.  In  none  of  the  writings  of  the  time  is  he 
referred  to  save  as  the  husband  of  Peg  Woffington's  beautiful  sister. 

The  "Honorable  Mrs.  Cholmondeley,"  however,  was  the  possessor  of  cer- 
tain traits  of  character  which  speedily  made  for  her  a  distinct  and  personal 
reputation  in  London.  A  sharp  tongue  and  a  ready,  caustic  wit  seem  to  have 
been  her  characteristics.  She  very  soon  showed  "the  gray  mare  to  be  the 
better  horse"  in  the  Cholmondeley  household;  and,  if  she  is  reported  correctly 
by  the  gossips  of  her  time,  did  not  expend  any  too  much  respect  or  esteem 
upon  her  lord  and  master:   she   is  even  said  to   have  openly  remarked  to  her 

*  Taylor's  Records. 

t "  /  have   been   unfortunate  in   my  own   family"  writes    Horace   Walpole  to   Mann 
about  this  time,  "My  nephew  has  married  a  player's  sister? 

(78) 


FROM  STAGE  TO  DRAWING-ROOM. 

intimates  that  "he  did  not  know  much."  This  expression,  however  tinctured 
with  ill-taste,  had  probably  truth  in  it.  Miss  Burney  writes  of  him  thus:  "Mr. 
Cholmondeley  is  a  clergyman;  nothing  shining  in  either  person  or  manners, 
but  rather  somewhat  grim  in  the  first  and  glum  in  the  last,  yet  he  appears  to 
have  humor  in  himself,   and  to   enjoy  it  much  in   others." 

He  treated  his  young  wife  like  a  spoiled  child,  and  took  in  good 
spirit  every  impertinent  speech  she  made  to  him  or  his  friends.  Mrs.  Chol- 
mondeley impressed  those  who  met  her  very  favorably  at  first,  but  eventually 
wearied  them  by  her  incessant   chatter.* 

Nevertheless,  Madame  D'Arblay  states  in  her  Journal:  "I  could  not  have 
had  a  greater  compliment  than  making  two  such  women  my  friends,  as  Mrs. 
Thrale  and  Mrs.  Cholmondeley,  for  they  are  severe  and  knowing,  and  afraid  of 
praising  a  tort  et  a  trovers,  as  their  opinions  are  likely  to  be  quoted.  *  *  * 
I  am  not  merely  prepared  but  determined  to  admire  Mrs.  Cholmondeley.  For 
really  she  has  shown  so  much  penetration  and  sound  sense  of  late  that  I  think 
she  will  finally  bring  about  a  union  between  wit  and  judgment,  though  their 
separation  has  been  so  long  and  their  meetings  have  been  so  few."  And 
although  Madame  D'Arblay  grew  tired  and  contemptuous  of  Woffington's  sister 
in  later  life,  she  noted  that  upon  meeting  with  strangers  Mrs.  Cholmondeley 
always   exercised  the  same  pleasant  effect. 

This  agreeable  impression  was  probably  due  to  Polly's  quick  compre- 
hension and  deftness  at  flattery.  She  possessed  the  seductive  blarney  of  her 
national  nature,  and  beguiled  the  senses  of  each  new  guest  with  such  pleasing 
compliments  that  there  was  no  .resisting  her  wiles.  She  seems  to  have  played 
at  will,  like  a  butterfly,  around  the  solemnity  of  Dr.  Johnson,  only  to  be  pinned 
to  the  wall  by  the  flashing  wit  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  f  This  strange, 
trifling,  beautiful  woman  must  have  been  possessed  of  more  than  the  common 
share  of  insight  into  men  and  matters. 

At  each  reception  which  she  attended  her  chair  was  surrounded  by  the 
brightest  wits   in   the   room.     Fanny  Burney   recounts   with  natural  indignation, 

*  Fanny  Burney 's   Diary. 
f  Boswell's  Johnson. 

(79) 


PERIOD  IX. 

how  at  one  evening  party  given  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  the  Earl  of  Harcourt 
and  Sheridan  paid  such  constant  attention  to  Mrs.  Cholmondeley  that  the  rest 
of  the  company  were  neglected.  Dr.  Johnson,  however,  soothed  her  rage  by 
declaring  that  Mrs.  Cholmondeley  was  the  first  who  had  discovered  the  merits 
of  "Evelina,"  whereupon  Miss  Burney  was  so  grateful  that  her  subsequent 
diary  is  filled  with  the  praises  of  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Cholmondeley,  who  is 
repeatedly  characterized  as  "the  most  clever,  charming  and  entertaining  of  her 
sex,  and  utterly  unlike  anybody  in   London." 

Horace  Walpole,  who  fully  shared  Lord  Cholmondeley's  anger  at  their 
relative's  so-called  mesalliance,  finally  consented  to  meet  and  was,  at  once, 
captured   by  the   charms   of  Mrs.   Cholmondeley.  * 

He  took  his  niece  to  Paris  with  him  and  presented  her  to  the  Dauphin 
and  Madame  du  Barri,  with  much  pride  in  her  beauty  and  sprightliness  of 
manner,  -j*  It  seems  to  have  amazed  many  that  a  woman  whose  babyhood  had 
been  spent  in  semi-vagrancy  on  the  streets  of  Dublin,  whose  father  had  been 
a  bricklayer  and  whose  mother  a  vegetable  peddler,  should  have  taken  a  place 
so  naturally  among  the  most  elegant  and  renowned  people  of  a  brilliant  age. 
Yet  she  was  presented  at  court  by  Walpole,  and  remained  the  intimate  com- 
panion and  friend  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Reynolds,  Sheridan,  and  their  contemporaries. 

The  early  favor  of  the  great  lexicographer  she  had  won  by  frank  flattery. 

"I  dined  yesterday  with  Sir  Joshua  and  met  Mrs.  Cholmondeley,"  says 
Johnson  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Thrale,  "and  she  told  me  that  I  was  the  best 
critic  in  the  world,  and  I  told  her  that  nobody  could  judge  like  her  of  the 
merit  of  a  critic,   and  that  she   crowned   me   with   undying   laurels."  J 

Dr.  Johnson,  as  usual,  did  not  hesitate  to  have  a  grim  joke  at  the  expense 
of  a  friend.  Once  at  a  large  dinner-party  the  ladies  were  called  upon  to 
give  their  separate  toasts.  Miss  Reynolds,  in  her  turn,  proposed  the  health 
of  Oliver  Goldsmith  as  the  ugliest  man  she  knew.  At  this  Mrs.  Cholmon- 
deley, who  was  seated  at  the  other  side  of  Goldsmith,  rose  up,  and 
stretching  across  the  board,   shook  hands  with  Miss   Reynolds,   declaring    that 

*  Walpole 's  Letters,  Vol.   II. 

\Ibid,  Vol.  V. 

\  Boswell's  Johnson. 

(80) 


FROM   STAGE    TO   DRAWING-ROOM. 

although  it  was  the  first  time  they  had  met  she  was  desirous  of  a  better 
acquaintance  with  a  lady  of  such  excellent  judgment.  Upon  which  Dr.  Johnson 
solemnly  remarked: 

"Thus  the  ancients  in  the  commencement  of  their  friendships  used  to 
sacrifice   a   beast   between   them." 

The  issue  of  the  Cholmondeley  marriage  was  a  family  of  nine  children. 
Woffington  lived  to  see  five  of  them  born.  One  lies  buried  with  her  in 
Teddington  Churchyard.  One  carried  the  Woffington  blood  back  into  a  noble 
Irish  family  by  marrying  Sir  William  Bellingham.  Another  one  of  Peggy's 
nieces  became  Maid  of  Honor  to  the  Princess  of  Wales  (the  unfortunate 
Princess  Caroline),  and  while  riding  with  her  royal  mistress  through  Leather- 
head,  in  1806,  was  killed  by  the  upsetting  of  her  carriage.  One  of  the 
daughters  had  the  honor  of  sitting  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  for  her  portrait. 
From  this  painting  a  very  fine  mezzotint  was  made,  which  shows  that  the 
strain  of  beauty  remained  very  strong  in  this  second  generation.  Mary  Wof- 
fington  survived  her  sister  fifty-one   years. 

But  Margaret  Woffington  is  not  yet  dead,  nor  has  she  yet  enjoyed 
some   of  her  brightest  and  happiest  years.      Let  us   follow  her  through   them. 


II  (81) 


PERIOD   X. 


FROM    THE    FRYING-PAN    INTO    THE    FIRE. 


WOFFINGTON  fled  from  Drury  Lane  for  peace  and  comfort.  I 
regret  to  say  she  did  not  immediately  find  either — at  Covent 
Garden.  She  left  one  house  to  avoid  jealousies  and  contests  with 
Clive,  Pritchard  and  Cibber;  and  she  accepted  a  lucrative  offer  from  her  former 
manager,  Rich,  only  to  find  herself  in  another  nest  of  hornets — with  the 
malicious   beauty  George  Anne   Bellamy  as   chief. 

For  some  time  Covent  Garden  had  been  falling  behind  in  popularity. 
In  1748  Rich's  company  was  not  indeed  of  such  inferior  talent  as  to  wholly 
deserve  the  disfavor  with  which  it  had  been  treated;  but  'no  theatre  could 
look  for  any  considerable  success  when  confronted  with  the  powerful  attractions 
offered  at  that  time  by  Drury  Lane,  in  which  the  company  was  so  strong 
that  even  subordinate  parts  were  assumed  by  actors  possessed  of  finer  talent 
than  that  acknowledged  in  some  of  the  leading  people  of  the  other  play-houses. 

Rich,  after  contemplating  the  gradual  decay  of  his  theatre,  resolved  to 
make  an  effort  to  bring  Covent  Garden  once  more  to  the  front.  He  engaged 
for  the  season  of  1748-9  Mr.  Quin,  Mr.  Sparks,  Mr.  Delane,  Miss  Bellamy, 
Miss  Pitt  and  Mrs.  Ward,  and  finally  secured  Peg  Woffington  on  her  return 
from  Paris.  Mrs.  Ward*  was  a  new-comer  into  the  theatrical  field,  and 
was  an  exceedingly  handsome  woman  and  a  good  actress,  but  being  of  vulgar 
birth,  presented  a  common  appearance  on  the  stage  and  could  not  be  cast 
for  the   character  of   a  lady.      Miss    Bellamy  declares    that   Mrs.   Ward's   face 

*  This  "Mrs.  Ward"  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  pretty  "Sally  Ward" — the 
daughter  of  Woffington's  old  Aungier  Street  manager,  who  eloped  with  Roger  Kemble  and 
became  the  mother  of  Sarah  Siddons. 

(82) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

was   beautiful    to   a   degree,   but  that    her  figure  betrayed   "the   humbleness   of 
her   origin." 

The  success  of  Rich's  new  move  did  not  equal  his  hopes,  I  fear; 
and  I  fancy  that  Margaret  Woffington  soon  found  that  her  career  was  to  be 
no  exception  to  that  of  every  stage  favorite  who  ever  lived — at  least  as  far 
as  the  fluctuation  of  popular  favor  is  concerned.  Even  Garrick  himself  was 
yet  to  know  the  day  (even  in  the  meridian  of  his  powers)  when  his  talents 
would  so  pall  upon  the  public  that  he  could  not  draw  a  £$0  house.  This 
sort  of  history  is  constantly  repeating  itself.  In  our  own  time  we  have  had 
Charlotte  Cushman,  in  the  best  days  of  her  talent,  play  for  a  season  to  empty 
benches,  yet  fulfil  an  engagement  some  years  later  to  overflowing  audiences. 
And  Edwin  Forrest  and  Edwin  Booth,  and  Charles  Kean  and  Macready  have 
experienced  the   same   fluctuations   of  popular  taste  and   distaste. 

It  seems  to  be  a  natural  law  that  we  should  grow  weary  at  one 
time  of  that  which  we  have  once  before  embraced  and  may  yet  again  caress 
and  desire.  It  is  so  at  least  with  popular  favorites — of  whatever  profession. 
There  is  a  tide  in  their  success,  and  those  are  wisest  who,  observing  the 
ebb  in  time,  shall  retire  for  a  while  of  their  own  will — to  float  in  again 
at    the   flow,   and   probably   then   reach   the   haven   of  fortune. 

Woffington's  sudden  and  unexplained  departure  from  Drury  Lane  had 
given  offence  to  the  exacting  public,  who  never  care  for  reasons  when  their 
own  comfort  is  at  stake.  Her  audiences  missed  something  they  had  been 
accustomed  to,  when  she  left.  They  did  not  ask  the  cause  of  her  leaving. 
She  volunteered  no  excuse.  They  chose  to  consider  her  as  fanciful  and 
freakish,  and  treasured  up  a  resentment;  so  that  when  she  invited  them  to 
her  re-appearance  in  another  theatre  she  found  them  reluctant  and  hard  to 
be   coaxed. 

The  season  began  on  the  21st  of  September  (1748),  and  Woffington 
played  Lady  Brute  on  the  opening  night.  She  played  in  rapid  succession 
Sylvia,  Mrs.  Sullen,  Mrs.  Ford  ("Merry  Wives"),  Lady  Percy,  Jane  Shore, 
Lady  Townly,  Rosalind,  Portia  ("Julius  Caesar"),  Phyllis,  The  Lady  (in 
"Comus"),  Andromache  ("The  Distressed  Mother")  and  Lady  Betty  Modish, 
besides   quite   a    number  of    new  parts.      One   of   these  was    in   a  version   of 

(83) 


PERIOD  X. 

"Coriolanus,"    which    had    been    written    by    Thompson,    the    poet,    who    dying 
suddenly  before  it  was  acted,   had   left  his   family  destitute. 

Thompson  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Quin  and  Lord  Lyttleton, 
and  these  gentlemen,  consulting  each  other  about  some  means  to  provide  for 
the  relatives  of  their  friend,  finally  agreed  that  the  play  which  had  been 
Thompson's  last  work  should  be  produced  for  the  benefit  of  the  author's  young 
sister.  Scenery  and  costumes  were  prepared  at  a  great  deal  of  expense,  and 
"  The  Relapse "  was  taken  off  on  January  1 3th,  to  make  room  for  "  Coriolanus." 
In  this  drama  Mrs.  Woffington  played  the  character  of  Veturia,  an  old  woman 
with  wrinkled  face,  preceding  it  by  appearing  in  more  gracious  attire  as 
Bellamante,  in  Mrs.  Behn's  familiar  farce  (part  pantomime,  part  ballet),  "The 
Emperor  of  the  Moon."  The  bill  ran  for  six  nights,  but  all  the  talents  of 
Woffington  and  Quin,  supported  by  an  excellent  company,  could  not  enlist 
the  sympathies  of  the  public.  Lord  Lyttleton  was  so  desirous  of  having 
Thompson's  piece  succeed,  that  he  wrote  an  Epilogue  for  Mrs.  Woffington 
to   speak,   in   her  own   person,   in   which   she   had  to   say: — 

If  an  Old   Mother  had  such    pow'rfu    charms 
To   stop  a  stubborn   Roman's   conq'ring  arms — 
If  with  my  grave  discourse  and  wrinkled  face 
I  thus  could  bring  a  hero  to   disgrace, 
How  absolutely  may  I   hope  to  reign 
Now   I  am  turned  to   my  own  shape  again. 

But,  alas,  she  did  not  reign — absolutely,  or  otherwise.  George  Anne 
Bellamy — a  daughter  of  Ireland  like  Woffington,  but  without  one  tithe  of 
Woffington's  heart  or  head,  her  nature  or  her  art — now  ruled  the  public 
through  their  eyes,  and  by  her  spirit  and  audacity.  She  had  the  advantage 
of  being  but  twenty,  Woffington  was  thirty.  Alas  !  add  ten  years  to  the 
age  of  an  actress  and  you  halve  her  attractiveness  in  the  eyes  of  the 
unthinking. 

The  appearance  of  these  amateur  Beauties,  who  make  their  way  to 
popular  favor  by  a  personal  "prettiness"  and  notoriety  rather  than  by  any 
positive  talent,  is  periodic  to  the  stage.  In  every  generation,  from  the  times  of 
Charles  the   Second,  the   theatre  has   been  occupied   for   a  brief  spell   by  some 

(84) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO  THE  FIRE. 

beautiful  and  well  advertised  incompetency,  who  has  filled  the  popular  eye  for 
a  brief  term  and  presently  vanished  into  obscurity,  leaving  only  a  few  prints  of 
her  time  to  recall  to  other  generations,  even  her  existence.  In  the  days  of  the 
Restoration  she  was  rampant.  The  stage  of  Queen  Anne  saw  her  disport  in 
the  loose  comedies  of  the  period,  and  in  the  reigns  of  the  Georges  she  came 
forth  with  the  features  of  Bellamy  and  Baddeley,  and  Crouch  and  Sumbel; 
and  even  Miss  O'Neill  is  not  to  be  lifted  out  of  this  category,  which  in  later 
days  has  been  increased  by  a  score  or  more  of  beautiful  Curiosities  from 
Mowatt  to  Langtry. 

Bellamy's  pert,  coquettish  ways  lent  considerable  attraction  to  some 
of  the  lighter  roles  of  comedy.  But  her  conceit  was  out  of  all  proportion 
to  her  talent.  She  seems  to  have  been  utterly  unconscious  of  how  vain  she 
was,  and  is  to  be  found  continually  discussing  her  own  merits  throughout  one 
of  the   most  entertaining  memoirs   that  ever  was   written.* 

One  has  only  to  read  between  the  lines  of  the  honied  phrases  in  this 
book,  when  Woffington  is  referred  to,  to  get  an  insight  into  the  annoyances 
to  which   Peggy  was  subjected   by  her  younger   rival. 

Tate  Wilkinson,  writing  of  this  period,  says:  "At  that  time  no  more  than 
two  or  three  of  the  principals  of  the  company  were  well  dressed,  and  those  not 
with  any  variety.  Mrs.  Woffington's  wardrobe  had  this  season  only  the  increase 
of  one  tragedy  suit  in  addition  to  the  clothes  allotted  to  her,  unless  she 
indulged   herself." 

Little  Bellamy,  pretty,  clever  and  spiteful,  and  possessed  of  a  graceful 
figure  and  an  expensive  taste  in  dress,  had  since  her  return  to  Covent  Garden 
been  enabled  to  wear  (through  the  indulgence  of  a  wealthy  admirer  f)  the 
most  costly  gowns. 

It  seems  to  have  been  the  amiable  practice  of  Miss  Bellamy  to  outdazzle 
Peg  Woffington  in  elegance  of  attire,  by  appearing  unexpectedly  on  the  stage 
in  a  robe  that  surpassed  that  of  the  superior  actress.  One  evening,  when 
Woffington  came  upon  the  scene  as  Cleopatra,  she  discovered  that  little  Bellamy, 
in    the    subordinate    character    of   Statira,   was    arrayed    in    a    magnificence   of 


*  "An  Apology  for  the  Life  of  George  Anne  Bellamy." 

t  Supposed  to  have  been  Mr.  Fox,  the  then  reigning  Minister  of  State. 

(85) 


PERIOD  X. 

costume  that  made  the  robe  of  the  Egyptian  Queen,  whose  costume  had  come 
from  the  theatre  wardrobe,  look   shabby. 

Woffington  was  naturally  quite  irritated  by  this  breach  of  the  proprieties, 
and  she  sent  for  Bellamy  at  the  close  of  the  act,  and  sternly  reproved  her.  The 
younger,  puss-like  actress  demurely  apologized  and  promised  not  to  wear 
the  gown  again.  She  kept  her  word.  But  at  the  next  representation  she  made 
her  appearance  in  another  costume  that  was  still  more  costly  and  equally  out  of 
character.  This  so  incensed  the  hot-tempered  Peggy  that  she  drove  her  rival 
off   the    stage,   and    almost    gave    her    the    coup  de  grace    behind    the    scenes. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  the  celebrated  wash-house  sensation  of  L'As- 
somoir  was,  on  this  occasion,  enacted  for  the  first  time  "on  any  stage"  in  the 
Green-room   of  Covent  Garden   Theatre. 

The  audiences — who  knew  pretty  well  the  terms  upon  which  the  rival 
actresses  lived — were  alternately  convulsed  with  laughter  or  testified  their  dis- 
pleasure  by   calls   for   Mrs.    Bellamy. 

But  let  us   hear   Bellamy  herself  relate   of  this   period: 

"Being  now  ready  to  burst  with  the  contending  passions  which  agitated 
her  bosom,  Mrs.  Woffington  told  me  it  was  well  for  me  that  I  had  a  Minister 
to  supply  my  extravagance  with  jewels  and  such  paraphernalia.  Struck  with 
so  unmerited  and  cruel  a  reproach,  my  asperity  became  more  predominant 
than  my  good-nature,  and  I  replied  I  was  sorry  that  even  half  the  town  could 
not  furnish  a  supply  equal  to  the  Minister  she  so  illiberally  hinted  at.  Finding 
I  had  got  myself  into  a  disagreeable  predicament,"  continues  Mrs.  Bellamy, 
"and  recollecting  the  well-known   distich,   that 

He  who  fights,   and   runs  away, 
May  live  to  fight  another  day, 

I  made  as  quick  an  exit  as  possible,  notwithstanding  I  wore  the  regalia  of  a 
queen.  But  I  was  obliged  in  some  measure  to  the  Comte*  for  my  safety,  as  his 
Excellency   covered    my    retreat,    and    stopped    my   enraged    rival's    pursuit.      I 

*  Comte  Haslang — who  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  amorous  army  of  admiring  fol- 
lowers which  devoted  itself  to  the  care  and  comfort  of  the  beautiful  Bellamy :  "He  made  me 
presents  of  wines  and  chocolates,  etc.,"  she  writes. 

(86) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

should    otherwise    have    stood    a  chance  of  appearing   in    the    next   scene    with 
black   eyes,   instead   of  the  blue   ones  which  Nature  had  given   me." 

To  vex  the  leading  lady  by  surpassing  her  in  attire  was  not  the  only 
malice  of  this  young  lady,  whom  even  her  devoted  admirer,  Mr.  Fox,  has 
happily  characterized  as  "Little  Bellamy,  a  creature  as  cold  as  ice  and  as 
conceited  as  the   devil." 

On  the  occasion  of  Quin's  benefit,  Miss  Bellamy,  without  any  warning, 
took  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry,  a  great  patron  and  lover  of  the  drama, 
behind  the  scenes  at  a  moment  which  was  calculated  to  destroy  in  any  illiberal 
mind  the  illusion  created  in  it  by  the  charms  of  the  finest  actress  in  the  king- 
dom :  for  as  the  Duchess  came  upon  Woffington,  the  first  thing  that  struck  her 
view,  as  Bellamy  puts  it  in  her  Memoirs,  "was  the  Fair,  the  Egyptian  Queen, 
with  a  pot  of  porter  in  her  hand,  crying  '  Here's  confusion  to  all  order  ! 
Let  liberty  thrive!'" 

Bellamy  winds  up  this  malicious  recital  with  a  naivete  that  is  delicious. 
"  Could  anything,"  she  asks,  "  have  happened  so  mal-apropos,  or  have  given 
her  Grace  so  disgusting  an   idea  of  the   inside  of  a  theatre  ? " 

Such  tricks  as  these,  joined  to  a  habit  that  Bellamy  had  of  bringing  her 
ministerial  admirer  and  several  lesser  ones  into  the  green-room,  made  her  com- 
panionship  rather  unpleasant  for   Margaret  Woffington. 

The  actress  was  so  much  vexed  by  the  Queensberry  incident  and  by  the 
confusion  brought  about  by  the  throng  of  Miss  Bellamy's  lovers  behind  the 
scenes,  that,  during  a  subsequent  performance  of  Isabella,  in  the  "Fatal 
Marriage,"  she  caused  the  green-room  doors  to  be  closed  against  all  but  those 
engaged  to  play  in  the  piece,  and  compelled  Rich  to  have  it  announced  on  the 
bills  of  the  play  that  "as  any  obstruction  in  the  movements  of  the  machinery 
will  greatly  prejudice  the  performance  of  the  entertainment,  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  no  persons  will  feel  offended  at  their  being  refused  admittance  behind 
the  scenes." 

Garrick  also  found  himself  obliged  to  put  the  same  notice  on  the  bills  of 
Drury  Lane  more  than  once  this  same  season,  and  very  soon  he  made  a  per- 
manent rule  excluding  every  one  from  the  stage  and  green-room,  except  those 
absolutely  attached   to  the  theatre. 

(87) 


PERIOD  X. 

This  was  looked  upon  as  a  great  grievance  at  the  time.  It  had  been, 
up  to  this  period,  the  fashion  for  the  beaux  and  wits  to  spend  rather  more  of 
their  evenings  behind  the  curtain  than  in  front  of  it.  But  while  no  woman  had 
a  keener  enjoyment  of  the  pleasures  of  society,  Wofhngton  seems  to  have  had 
little  patience  with  its  intrusion  into  the  hours  that  she  gave  to  her  public  duty. 

Garrick  has  had  the  credit  of  causing  this  "Reform"  upon  the  stage,  but 
it  will  be  seen  that  it  had  really  its  origin  in  a  personal  contest  between  these 
two  pretty  women,   each   striving  to   make  her  power   felt  by   the   other. 

Love  and  Passion,  however,  came  to  Woffington's  rescue,  and  for  a 
brief  space   relieved   her   of  the   "femininities"   of  Miss    Bellamy. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  season,  while  that  young  lady  was  acting 
Lady  Fanciful,  she  was  called  from  the  green-room  by  a  message  sent  by  one 
Mr.  Metham  (of  her  battalion  of  admirers),  who  requested  her  to  give  him  a 
word  in  private.  She  complied  and  went  to  the  stage  door  to  see  him,  when 
he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  threw  a  veil  over  her  head,  and  hurried  her  out 
into  a  carriage   which   he  had  kept   in   waiting. 

And  that  was  the  last  seen  of  Bellamy,  not  only  upon  that  night  but  for 
the  rest  of  the  season.  Quin  had  to  make  an  apology  to  the  audience.  Her 
part  was  read  in  the  last  act.  The  beautiful  George  Anne  always  contended 
that  it  was  a  genuine  abduction — but  Quin,  her  best  friend  in  the  theatre, 
always  doubted  that  "running  away  with  a  woman  who  made  no  resistance" 
should   be  called  by  so   "severe"   a  term. 

Nothing  further  of  interest  to  our  subject  is  to  be  recorded  of  this 
season :  but  it  is  to  be  noted  that  King,  the  comedian  who  afterwards  became 
quite  celebrated,  and  was  the  original  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  made  his  debut  at 
Drury  Lane  Theatre  during  the  year;  and  that  Garrick,  failing  to  induce  Quin 
to  join  his  company,  tempted  the  pretty  but  insipid  Mrs.  Ward  (whom  Quin 
had  described  as  "  a  half-baked  pan-cake ")  to  desert  Covent  Garden  and  go 
over  to  his  forces. 

The  next  season  (1749-50)  opened  therefore  with  both  of  Woffington's 
envious  rivals  out  of  the  theatre.  Of  course  the  usual  cry  was  raised  by 
friends  who  wanted  to  excuse  the  disloyalty  or  incompetency  of  these  ladies — 
that  it  was  Woffington's  jealousy  which  had  driven  them  out  of  Covent  Garden. 

(88) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

I've  heard  the  same  foolish  cry  raised  in  my  own  time  on  behalf  of  the 
incompetent,  and  with  as  faint  a  show  of  reason.  Why  should  the  Lioness  be 
jealous  of  the   Cat? 

Woffington  played  Lady  Macbeth  for  the  first  time  this  season  to 
Quin's  Thane,  and  added  Lucetta  in  the  "  Suspicious  Husband "  to  her  list  of 
successful  characters,  and  also  Arpasia  in  "Tamerlane,"  another  tragic  perso- 
nation; and  later  in  the  season,  Lady  Jane  Grey,  which  she  acted  seven  nights 
successively,  and  gave  a  performance  of  the  part  which  (Wilkinson  says)  added 
greatly  to  her  reputation.  This  play  was  also  "commanded"  at  Leicester  House 
by  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  acted  before  the  whole  Royal  Family. 
Woffington  also  played  Estifania  this  season,  a  part  in  which  Kitty  Clive  was 
unusually  well  thought  of,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  season,  she  acted 
Anne  Bullen  in  an  old  play  which  had  been  thirty  years  absent  fro.n  the  stage. 

Miss  Bellamy  returned  after  her  long  "stage  wait"  and  took  up  her  cue 
on  the  23d  of  January  (1750),  when  she  played  Belvedera  in  "Venice  Preserved." 

Woffington  closed  this  season  with  a  performance  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair; 
but  although  the  winter  had  not  been  as  personally  uncomfortable  to  Peggy  as 
the  previous  one,  nevertheless  it  was  far  from  pleasant;  and  many  disagreeable 
things,  both  before  and  behind  the  footlights,  which  only  appeared  in  the  shoot 
this  year,  budded  and  blossomed  the  succeeding  season,  and  finally  stifled  by 
their  rank  odors  all  Woffington's  life  and  interest  in  Covent  Garden  Theatre, 
or  for  the  London   public. 

The  company  at  Covent  Garden  was  much  strengthened  for  1750-51 
by  the  addition  of  Macklin  (who  returned  from  Dublin)  and  his  wife;  also  by 
the  engagement  of  Spranger  Barry,  who  had  become  discontented  at  sharing 
parts  with  Garrick  in  Drury  Lane;  and  by  the  return  of  Mrs.  Cibber,  Wof- 
fington's old  antagonist.  Quin  and  Ryan  remained.  But  over  these  famous, 
talented,  wilful,  and  opinionated  people  the  Manager  now  seemed  to  lose  all 
control.  In  trying  to  satisfy  everybody  Rich  only  secured  the  contempt  of  his 
whole  company  and  pleased   none. 

But  of  course  all  these  feelings  were  concealed  under  smiles  and  courtesies 
at  first;  and  to  the  outer  world  everything  at  Covent  Garden  was  harmonious. 

12  (89) 


PERIOD   X. 

Yet  the  volcano  only  slumbered.  Garrick  and  his  partner,  alarmed  by  the 
formidable  array  at  the  rival  house,  and  the  loss  of  so  many  of  their  own 
choice  attractions,  began  to  cast  about  in  the  troubled  waters.  Miss  Bellamy 
was  tempted  over  to  Drury  Lane  by  offers  of  a  larger  salary,  and  Quin's 
loyalty  was  tried  by  the  most  flattering  temptations ;  but  that  actor,  having 
for  a  great  while  been  the  master  in  Covent  Garden,  was  in  no  way  disposed 
to  yield  his  liberty  for  the  sake  of  association  with  even  so  renowned  a  genius 
as  Garrick.  Mr.  Quin,  therefore,  continued  with  Rich,  but  in  consideration 
of  the  active  demand  for  his  services,  he  exacted  a  salary  of  one  thousand 
pounds  a  year.  This  was  the  largest  remuneration  which  up  to  that  period  had 
ever  been  paid  to  an  actor.  But  between  the  choice  of  losing  Quin  and 
granting  his  demands,    Mr.   Rich   thought   it   better  to   retain   his   man. 

Garrick  was  so  intimately  acquainted  with  the  characters  of  the  different 
players  at  Covent  Garden,  that  he  felt  certain  they  would  not  live  in  harmony 
for  any  length  of  time. 

Quin  was  jealous  of  the  great  reputation  which  Barry  had  gained 
both  in  Ireland  and  at  Drury  Lane,  while  Barry  resented  the  control  that 
Quin  airily  assumed  over  the  theatre  with  which  he  had  been  for  so  many 
years  connected.  Quin  was  too  proud  to  accept  any  suggestions  from  his 
younger  and  handsomer  rival ;  and  the  latter  had  too  much  dignity  and  spirit 
to  be  brow-beaten   by  Quin. 

In  addition  to  the  rupture  that  seemed  certain  to  arise  between  this 
couple,  there  was  an  equal  likelihood,  in  Garrick's  estimation,  of  a  war  among 
the  women.  Woffington  and  Cibber  had  for  many  years  disliked  each  other 
cordially,  not  only  for  personal  reasons  in  which  Garrick  himself  was  concerned ; 
but  Mrs.  Cibber  was  envious  of  the  greater  fame  and  wider  popularity  of 
Woffington,  and  Peggy's  Irish  temper  was  at  all  times  on  the  alert,  and  ready, 
though  not  anxious,  for  a  contest  with  anyone  who  provoked  it.  Mrs.  Cibber 
was  a  woman  of  finer  breeding  than  Kitty  Clive,  and  she  had  not  the  smaller 
cat-like  nature  of  Bellamy.  Woffington  found  therefore  no  recurrence  in  Covent 
Garden  of  the  former  green-room  squabbles  of  Drury  Lane.  But  although  the 
mutual  aversion  of  these  ladies  had  no  recourse  to  invective,  it  was  none 
the  less   earnest  and   bitter.      Their   dislike   did   not   express    itself    in   a   frank 

(9o) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

warfare,   but    was  declared    by  glances,   whispers,  and    in   sarcastic    and    ironic 
compliments. 

Mrs.  Cibber  knew  very  well  that  she  was  no  match  for  her  younger  rival 
in  wit,  and  Mrs.  Woffington  had  too  much  good  sense  to  provoke  open  hostility 
by  a  fierce  attack  on  her  antagonist,  although  her  honester  nature  writhed 
beneath  the  suppression  of  her  justifiable  resentments.  Mr.  Rich  in  his  attempts 
to  bring  all  these  opposing  elements  together  only  separated  them  still  further. 
Davies  likens  him   in   this   respect  to   Milton's   Chaos — 

"  He   umpire  sat, 
And  by  decision  more  embroil'd  the  fray." 

In  fact  Rich  was  so  destitute  of  tact  in  his  efforts  to  maintain  order,  that 
he  not  only  increased  the  ill-feeling  of  his  actors  toward  one  another,  but 
brought  it  in   an   accumulated  avalanche   upon   himself. 

The  old  Pantomimist  seems  never  to  have  shown  any  very  great  regard 
for  his  more  reputable  theatrical  brethren,  and  in  spite  of  the  money  he  had 
made  from  his  dramatic  productions  he  always  preferred  pantomimes  to  plays. 
Indeed,  he  seems  to  have  had  more  or  less  contempt  for  the  mere  tragedian 
or  comedian,  or  anyone  in  fact  who  could  not  turn  a  somersault  through  a  stage 
mirror  or  dance  in  a  harlequinade.  He  had  borne  patiently  with  his  company 
while  it  was  amiable  in  fellowship,  but  now,  when  courtesy  was  strained  to  its 
utmost  limit,  and  the  green-room  was  something  like  a  seething  cauldron, 
Mr.  Rich  could  not  hide  his  disdain  for  his  company,  nor  could  they  conceal 
their   contempt   for   him.* 

Quarrels  between  the  manager  and  his  actors  were  of  frequent  occur- 
rence. Rich  commonly  termed  Woffington  his  "Sarah  Malcolm,"  and  Mrs. 
Cibber  his  "Katherine  Hayes," — likening  the  ladies,  by  these  names,  to  a  pair  of 
violent  women  who  had  been  recently  hanged  for  joint  murder.f  He  had 
never  forgiven  Woffington  and  Quin  for  once  refusing  to  take  part  in  one  of 
his    pantomimes,    and    though    making    a    great    deal    of   money    out    of    their 


*  Davies'   Life  of  Garrick,    Vol.   I.       Wilkinson's  Memoirs,    Vol.   IV. 
f  Bellamy's  Apology. 


(90 


PERIOD   X. 

talents,  he  never  ceased  to  covertly  deride  and  sneer  at  them.     This  contempt- 
uous spirit  was  returned  with  interest  by  the  company,  with  scarcely  an  exception. 

Therefore,  although  the  prospects  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre  seemed 
so   fair,   its    management  did    not    rest,   by   any   means,   upon   a  bed  of    roses. 

This  was  the  season,  by  the  way,  of  the  famous  Romeo  and  Juliet 
contest  between  the  rival  theatres,  when  Garrick  and  Miss  Bellamy  at  one 
house  and  Barry  and  Mrs.  Cibber  at  the  other  divided  London  into  two  vast 
partisan  armies.  It  was  also  the  season  when  grand  pantomime  was  produced 
for  the  first  time  at  Drury  Lane,  Garrick  being  resolved  to  strike  a  blow  at 
Rich  in  his  tenderest  part — for  as  Lun  the  "Harlequin"  our  Covent  Garden 
manager  had  considered  himself  invulnerable  and  unconquerable.  The  light  come- 
dian Woodward  (afterwards  the  original  Petrucio  in  the  farcified  Garrick  version 
of  "Taming  the  Shrew")  was  cast  for  the  motley  hero  of  Garrick's  Harle- 
quinade, which  was  entitled  "Queen  Mab,"  and  Woodward's  Harlequin  won  the 
town  at  once.  This  so  disgusted  Rich  that  he  produced  no  pantomime  whatever 
that  year.  • 

To  add  to  Rich's  annoyance,  a  whimsical  caricature  of  the  affair  came 
out  at  the  print-shops.  It  was  called  "The  Steelyards,"  and  depicted  a  pair 
of  scales:  on  one  side  of  which  were  placed  Woffington,  Quin,  Barry  and  Cibber, 
while  the  other  held  Woodward  and  "  Queen  Mab,"  and  represented  the  little 
load  of  Drury  Lane  far  outweighing  the  great  weight  of  talent  at  Covent  Garden. 

Soon  after  this  event,  another  incident  occurred  to  still  further  try  Rich's 
temper  and  bring  matters   to   a   focus   in   his   theatre. 

During  a  revival  of  "King  John"  at  Covent  Garden,  which  this  year 
took  the  place  of  the  usual  pantomime,  Mrs.  Cibber,  who  was  playing  Con- 
stance in  that  tragedy,  was  suddenly  taken  ill.  This  was  no  uncommon 
occurrence  with  Mrs.  Cibber.  She  was  a  woman  of  delicate  physique  and 
not  very  well  fitted  to  endure  the  strain  of  acting,  nor  the  constant  study  of 
new  characters.  Furthermore,  she  often  fancied  herself  indisposed  at  times 
when  she  was  well  enough  to  play.  So  that,  between  the  reality  and  the 
imagination  of  illness,  between  maladies  of  the  body  and  languor  of  the  mind, 
Mrs.   Cibber's    appearance   on   the    stage   was  -frequently   an    uncertain   matter. 

(92) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

Her  indisposition  during  the  run  of  "King  John,"  however,  was  an  actual  one. 
Mr.  Rich  received  notification  of  the  fact  that  she  could  not  perform,  at  a 
period  too  late  in  the  afternoon  to  substitute  another  play.  He  entreated 
Woffington  to  take  Mrs.  Cibber's  place  and  appear  as  Constance  for  that 
night.  The  character  was  one  little  suited  to  her  taste.  But  with  the  willing- 
ness to  oblige  her  manager,  and  the  desire  to  gratify  the  public,  which  had 
ever  been  the  characteristics  of  Woffington,  she  readily  consented.  When  the 
curtain  was  lifted  she  came  forward  in  the  costume  of  Constance,  and  politely 
offered  to  interpret  that  character  if  the  audience  would  permit  her  to  supply 
Mrs.   Cibber's  place  during  the   indisposition   of  that  lady. 

"  The  spectators,"  says  Wilkinson,  "  instead  of  meeting  her  address 
with  approbation,  seemed  to  be  entirely  lost  in  surprise.  This  unexpected 
reception  so  embarrassed  Woffington  that  she  was  preparing  to  retire,  when 
Ryan,  who  thought  that  they  only  wanted  a  hint  to  rouse  them  from  their 
insensibility,  asked  them  bluntly  if  they  would  give  Mrs.  Woffington  leave  to 
act  Lady  Constance.  The  audience,  as  if  at  once  awakened  from  a  fit  of  lethargy, 
by  repeated  plaudits  strove  to  make  amends  for  their  inattention  to  the  most 
beautiful   woman   that  ever  adorned  a   theatre." 

Mrs.  Cibber  was  not  the  only  one  in  the  Covent  Garden  company  whose 
frequent  indispositions  embarrassed  the  manager  and  disappointed  the  audience 
this  season.  Mr.  Barry  very  often  refused  to  play  on  account  of  his  voice. 
He  had  a  weak  throat,  and  was  in  such  dread  of  hoarseness  that  he  would 
not  go  to  the  theatre  unless  the  weather  was  favorable.  When  he  did  not  care 
to  act   he  coolly  sent   a  message  to  Rich,  stating  that  his  throat  troubled  him. 

The  manager  had  no  resource  at  such  irritating  times  but  to  rely  on  the 
good  nature  of  Mrs.  Woffington,  who,  in  contrast  with  the  other  members 
of  the  company,  was  amiability  itself.  On  these  occasions  of  illness  among  the 
tragedians  the  comedies  in  which  the  name  of  Woffington  was  famous  were 
generally  produced. 

It  was,  therefore,  natural  in  her  to  be  annoyed  beyond  measure  at 
observing  that  while  the  future  appearances  of  Mrs.  Cibber,  Barry  and  Quin 
were  underlined  in  large  type  on  the  bills,  her  own  name  appeared  frequendy 

(93) 


PERIOD   X. 

in  obscurity  and  only  with  the  regular  cast  of  the  play.  The  reason  of  this 
strange  action  on  the  part  of  Rich,  writes  Tate  Wilkinson,*  seems  to  have  been 
"partly  in  his  inveterate  dislike  of  Miss  Woffington  ever  since  she  had  declined 
to  act  in  his  pantomime,  and  partly  through  the  awe  in  which  he  stood  of  Quin 
and   Mrs.    Cibber." 

In  spite  of  Mrs.  Woffington's  frequent  protest,  Rich  persisted  in  his 
very  singular  treatment  of  her  name  in  his  advertisements;  and  the  contempt- 
uous way  in  which  her  just  complaints  and  her  complaisant  efforts  were 
received,  very  reasonably  incensed  the  actress.  She  notified  Rich  one  day  that 
if  he  printed  her  name  in  this  indifferent  manner  again  she  would  refuse  to 
act  as  substitute  for  any  of  his  people.  The  manager  laughed  at  the  threat. 
He  was  not  yet   fully  acquainted   with   the   nature   of  Peg  Woffington. 

A  few  weeks  after  she  had  expressed  this  decision  to  Mr.  Rich,  "Jane 
Shore"  was  billed  for  Covent  Garden.  Mrs.  Cibber  had  one  of  her  usual 
fits  of  indisposition  again.  Her  character  was  the  next  in  importance  to  the 
jfane  Shore  of  Mrs.  Woffington,  and  there  was  no  one  to  fill  her  place. 
The  drama  was,  therefore,  taken  off  and  announcement  made  that  "  The 
Constant  Couple"  would  be  performed.  The  public  had,  previous  to  this, 
become  irritated  by  the  frequent  disappointments  they  experienced  at  Covent 
Garden.  The  audiences  began  to  fancy  that  the  manager  was  very  badly 
treated  by  his  company,  as  indeed  they  felt  themselves  to  be,  and  several  of 
the  bucks  about  town  met  and  resolved  that  on  the  next  failure  of  a  billed 
performer  to  appear,  popular  resentment  should  be  shown  as  a  mark  of 
indignation   against   the   individual   and  a   sign   of  sympathy   for   Rich. 

Mrs.  Woffington,  of  course,  did  not  know  of  this,  but  she  had  given  her 
warning  and  she  determined  to  carry  out  the  threat.  She  peremptorily  refused 
to  act  Sir  Harry  in  this  "substitute"  performance,  and  sent  word  to  say  that 
she  was  sick,  and  at  the  last  moment  "The  Miser"  had  to  be  substituted  for 
the   "  Constant  Couple." 

Rich  was  furious,  the  audience  was  indignant.  Woffington  only  was 
calm.      She   had  kept   her  word. 

*  Memoirs,  Vol.  HI 

(94) 


FROM  THE  FRYING-PAN  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

This  accomplished,  her  amiability  returned.  But  upon  her  next  appearance 
at  the  theatre  in  the  part  of  Lady  Jane  Grey  the  audience  manifested  their 
anger  strongly  at  her  action  in  declining  to  play  on  the  former  occasion. 
Let  Wilkinson   paint  the   scene: 

"Whoever  is  living  and  saw  her  that  night  will  own  that  they  never 
beheld  any  figure  half  so  beautiful  since.  Her  anger  gave  a  glow  to  her 
complexion  and  added  lustre  to  her  charming  eyes.  The  audience  treated 
her  very  rudely,  bade  her  ask  pardon,  and  threw  orange  peels  on  the 
stage.  She  behaved  with  great  resolution,  and  treated  their  rudeness  with 
glorious  contempt.  She  left  the  stage,  was  called  for,  and  with  infinite 
persuasion  was  prevailed  on  to  return.  However,  she  did  so ;  walked  forward 
to  the  footlights,  and  told  them  she  was  ready  and  willing  to  perform  her 
character  if  they  chose  to  permit  her — that  the  decision  was  theirs — on  or 
off,  just  as  they  pleased — a  matter  of  indifference  to  her.  The  ayes  had 
it,  and  all  went  smoothly  afterwards,  though  she  always  persisted  in  believing 
that  the  clique  against  her  was  originally  formed  by  Rich's  family  and  particular 
friends,  some  of  whom  she  did  not  scruple  to  name,  though,  I  believe,  she 
always   acquitted  Rich  himself  of  any  knowledge   of  it." 

And  so  between  her  impolitic  manager,  and  the  fickle  and  forgetful 
public,  and  spoilt  and  petulant  Mrs.  Cibber,  and  arrogant  Mr.  Quin,  poor  Peggy 
had  no  happy  time  of  it; — and  finally  Quin  himself  took  active  side  against  her. 

Quin  had  been  long  jealous  of  the  superior  popularity  of  Woffington, 
for,  elated  by  the  enormous  salary  which  Rich  granted  to  him,  and  made  vain 
by  Garrick's  endeavor  to  tempt  him  over  to  the  rival  theatre,  Quin's  con- 
ception of  his  own  importance  had  grown  faster  than  the  estimation  in  which  he 
was  held  by  the  public.  He  allowed  himself  to  be  irritated  by  the  applause  which 
Woffington's  acting  received,  and  annoyed  by  the  enthusiasm  that  was  excited 
by  her  great  beauty  and  grace,  and  the  dislike  which  these  feelings  engendered 
was  skillfully  increased  by  the  malice  of  Bellamy,  who,  although  she  was  now 
under  the  management  of  Garrick,  still   continued  to   be  the   favorite  of  Quin. 

This  unamiable  little  minx  seems  to  have  continually  fomented  discords 
between  Mr.  Quin  and  Mrs.  Woffington,  and  to  have  done  everything  in  the 
power  of  a   spiteful   and  artful   woman   to   make  her  great  rival   unhappy. 

(95) 


PERIOD  X. 

In  this  she  succeeded  but  poorly.  Woffington  would  have  considered  life 
dull  without  contention.  And  nothing  sat  so  well  on  her  humor  as  to  engage 
in  rhetorical  warfare  with  anyone  who  ventured  into  the  lists  with  her.  In  this 
way  she  had  a  great  many  satiric  tilts  with  Quin,  who,  from  the  superiority 
of  -his  position  in  the  theatre,  was  accustomed  to  try  his  wit  on  every  other 
member  of  the   company. 

Mr.  Quin's  humor,  after  the  manner  of  the  times,  was  a  trifle  coarse. 
Still   he  did   not  always   have   the   best  of  the   fray. 

Once  when  they  were  acting  in  "  The  Recruiting  Officer,"  Quin,  who 
played  Balance  to  Woffington's  Sylvia,  had  during  his  dinner  drunk  a  great  deal 
more  wine  than  was  good  for  him — and  during  the  performance  his  lines  slipped 
him. 

"Tell  me,"  said  he  as  Balance  to  his  daughter  Sylvia,  "how  old  was 
you   when  your  mother  was  married  ? " 

"What,  sir?"  asked  Woffington,  with  a  merry  twinkle  at  catching  her 
antagonist  tripping  before   the  audience. 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Quin,  still  muddled — "  I  mean  how  old  was  you  when 
your  mother  was   born?" — at  which   the   house   roared. 

"I  regret,  sir,"  said  Woffington  in  the  tenderest  and  most  filial  tones, 
suitable  to  the  part  of  Sylvia,  "that  I  cannot  answer  your  questions — but 
/  can  tell  you,  if  it  be  necessary — how  old  I  was  (giving  him  with  full  force 
the  proper  lines  of  his  part)  when  my  mother  died ! "  at  which  the  house 
broke    into    mingled    laughter    and    applause. 

Quin  was  furious — and  this  added  another  to  his  previous  motives  for 
disliking  our  heroine.  In  conjunction  with  the  others  he  made  Woffington's 
stay  at  Covent  Garden  so  disagreeable  that  she  determined  to  quit  the 
theatre;  and,  therefore,  refusing  a  re-engagement  from  Rich,  she  shook  the 
dust  of  London  from  her  dainty  slippers,  and  took  a  sudden  departure  for 
Dublin, — "  where,"  as  Miss  Bellamy  remarks,  with  an  insidious  sneer,  "  her 
beauty  alone  could  insure  her  success." 


(96) 


SUSANNA  MAFUACIBBER. 

From   *   painmng  by  THOMAS  HUDSON. 

IS    POASKlftlOH    Of    AUOUSTIN    UALY. 


PERIOD   XI. 


FROM  POETS  TO  CRITICS. 


BEFORE  taking  passage  with  Woffington  across  the  Irish  Sea,  let  us 
look  into  the  contemporary  newspapers  and  magazines,  and  see  in 
what  esteem   she  was   held  as   actress  and  woman   at  this   period. 

Tradition  has  lifted  Peg  Woffington  into  a  most  enviable  position  among 
the  brilliant  women  of  the  last  century.  It  is  gratifying  to  find  in  the  printed 
outpourings  of  her  critics  and  her  poets  a  complete  endorsement  of  all  that 
tradition    has    handed  down   concerning  her. 

It  will  be  noted  that  her  severer  critics  lay  much  stress  upon  certain 
"  discordant  tones  "  in  her  voice,  when  she  acted  in  tragedy.  But  it  should  be 
remembered  what  an  ordeal  that  voice  must  have  suffered  when  as  a  mere 
child  she  was  called  upon  to  sing  in  the  plays  at  Madame  Violante's 
booth,  and  to  act  such  other  roles  as  called  for  a  severe  strain  upon  her 
yet  unformed  tones.  Notes,  which  in  singing  may  have  been  admirable,  when 
exerted  in  declamatory  passages  will  give  precisely  those  dissonant  or  dis- 
cordant tones  that  Woffington's  critics  condemned,  but  which  cannot  have 
been  always  prominent,  or  she  could  never  have  become  the  popular  favorite 
she   undoubtedly  was. 

What  voice  has  been  more  condemned  in  our  day  than  Henry  living's, 
and  yet  the  peculiar  fascination  which  that  singular  voice  exerts  after  the  first 
shock  of  strange  elocution  passes,  proves  that  the  charm  in  fresh  tones  is 
only  discovered  as  we  become  accustomed  to  them:  as  with  the  taste  for 
new  brands  of  wine,  which  first  offend,   then   delight  the  palate. 

J3  (97) 


PERIOD    XL 

I  question,  too,  if  any  voice  has  been  more  debated  than  that  of  Ada 
Rehan's.  People  first  hearing  it  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  in  trying  to 
explain  its  peculiarity,  have  called  it  "  English."  When  she  first  acted  in  London 
the  same  singularity  in  her  tones  (even  above  those  of  her  fellow-artists)  struck 
the  English  ear,  and  in  their  puzzled  search  for  something  to  express  its  new- 
ness they  called  it  "American."  On  both  sides  of  the  ocean,  however,  her 
voice  has  won  its  way  by  a  singular  clearness,  and  a  variety  in  its  modula- 
tion that  is  now  very  freely  admitted  by  writers  upon  contemporaneous  theatrical 
matters. 

The  tributes  paid  to  the  womanhood  of  Peg  Woffington  were  countless. 
Even  those  who  disliked  her  from  interested  motives  or  professional  envy  were 
forced  to  confess  her  charms  as  a  woman  and  an  actress.  *  George  Anne 
Bellamy,  her  life-long  antagonist,  says  in  her  "Apology," — "when  dressed  for 
Cleopatra  Woffington's  beauty  beggared  all  description ; " — and  continually  refers 
to  her  throughout  the  book  as  "the  beautiful  Mrs.  Woffington." 

Davies,  while  defending  Garrick  in  his  conduct  towards  her,  affirms  that 
"  Mrs.  Woffington  was  mistress  of  a  good  understanding,  which  was  much 
improved  by  company  and  books.  She  had  a  most  attractive  sprightliness  in 
her  manner,  and  dearly  loved  to  pursue  the  bagatelle  of  vivacity  and  humor. 
She  was,  furthermore,  affable,  good-natured  and  charitable." 

In  Murphy's  history,  which  is  equally  favorable  to  Garrick,  the  writer  pro- 
claims that  "The  understanding  of  Mrs.  Woffington  was  superior  to  the  gener- 
ality of  her  sex.  Forgive  her  one  female  error,  and  it  might  fairly  be  said  that 
she  was  adorned  with  every  virtue.  However,  truth,  benevolence  and  charity 
were  her  distinguishing  characteristics.  Her  conversation  was  in  a  style  of 
eloquence  always  pleasing  and  oftentimes  instructive.  She  abounded  in  wit, 
but  not  of  that  wild  sort  which  breaks  out  in  flashes,  and  is  often  troublesome 
and  impertinent.  Her  judgment,  however,  restrained  her  within  due  bounds. 
On  the  stage   she   displayed  her  talents  in   the  brightest  lustre." 

Dr.  Johnson,  who  drank  tea  with  her  frequently  at  home,  and  often 
listened  to  the  lively  wit  of  the  actress    in    the    green-room    of    Drury   Lane, 

*  See  Murphy  and  Davies  in  their  books  on  Garrick.    Also  Bellamy's  Apology. 

(98) 


FROM  POETS  TO   CRITICS. 

acknowledged  to  Boswell  the  seductive  powers  of  Peg  Woffington,  and  declared 
himself  afraid  of  them. 

These  compliments  to  the  personal  graces  of  the  woman  are  equalled 
by  the  praise  given   to  the  conscientious  sense  of   duty  in   the  actress. 

Tate  Wilkinson  cannot  commend  her  enough  for  this  feature  in  his 
Memoirs,  and  Victor  says  in  his  History  of  the  Theatres :  "  She  never  dis- 
appointed an  audience  through  three  winters  in  Dublin;  and  yet  I  have  often 
seen   her  on   the   stage  when   she  ought  to  have  been   in  bed." 

In  no  instance  was  she  known  to  refuse  her  gratuitous  services  at  a 
benefit  in  aid  of  an  actor  or  a  public  charity.  A  memorable  and  graceful 
example  of  this  is  recorded  in  her  dancing  in  a  minuet  at  a  performance  given 
in  a  rival  theatre  for  the  aid  of  an  obscure  actor.*  Another  instance  of  her 
good  nature  is  to  be  found  in  her  playing  the  insignificant  character  of  Lady 
Lutewell,  in  support  of  Mr.  Foote's  attempt  at  Sir  Harry  Wildair  at  the 
benefit  of  that  gendeman,  after  his   first  disaster  in   the   Haymarket 

The  comedy  of  Peg  Woffington  was  not,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  of  the 
style  made  traditional  by  those,  who  had  preceded  her  in  humorous  roles.  To 
this  may  be  in  a  measure  ascribed  the  criticisms  that  were  passed  upon  her 
method  of  elocution,  apart  from  the  dissonant  tones  noted  in  her  performance 
of  tragedy  which  I  have  already  noted. 

The  fashion  before  she  came  to  London  was  to  rant  over  a  speech, 
or  give  it  stately  emphasis,  and  to  interpret  the  lighter  emotions  of  humanity 
with  rhetorical  periods  and  sing-song  cadences  that  provoked  the  applause  of 
the  audience  radier  than  explained  the  author's  sentiments.  The  simplicity  of 
methods  and  debonnair  graces  made  familiar  to  our  contemporaneous  stage 
by  the  younger  Matthews,  and  by  Lester  Wallack  in  his  pristine  days,  and 
followed  by  younger  actors,  and  notably  by  our  own  James  Lewis  and  John 
Drew,  were  entirely  foreign  to  the  theatre  of  but  a  little  over  a  century  ago. 

l'rom  the  various  opinions  bequeathed  us  by  the  critics  of  that  day  it 
would  seem  that  Woffington  was  the  first  woman  to  assume  a  comedy  character 
with  ease  and  speak  its  lines  with  naturalness.     The  innovation  was   resented. 

*  Old  playbill,   Geneste   Collection. 

(99) 


PERIOD  XL 

People  who  have  been  long  used  to  the  dignified  eloquence  and  polished 
periods  of  old-fashioned  players  are  not  disposed  to  approve  immediately  of 
easier  and  simpler  systems  of  acting.  The  case  of  Ada  Rehan  is  an  excellent 
proof  of  this.  At  first  she  seems  audacious  and  trifling,  and  affected  in  her 
manner.  Probably  no  person  ever  felt  entirely  satisfied  with  this  young  actress 
until  they  became  familiar  with  her  method  after  a  second  hearing.  The  ease 
and  unconscious  chattiness  of  her  language,  the  habit  she  has  of  at  once 
ignoring  the  audience  and  at  the  same  time  taking  it  into  her  confidence,  the 
simplicity  of  her  manner  and  the  naturalness  of  her  diction,  are  all  matters 
that  come  strangely  to  one  accustomed  to  the  more  "  theatrical "  style  of  acting 
which  is  altogether  too  common,  even  in  our  own  extremely  "naturalistic"  days. 

At  first  her  audiences  did  not  comprehend  Peg  Woffington.  The 
graceful  unconsciousness  of  her  manner,  the  ease  and  simplicity  with  which 
she  spoke  her  lines,  and  the  thorough  manner  in  which  she  became  identified 
with  the  spirit  and  humor  of  her  part,  were  confusing  to  the  traditions  of 
the  stage. 

She  presented  nature  in  the  theatre  as  it  is  in  every-day  life,  without 
adorning  it  with  borrowed  plumes.  In  her  comedy  she  was  frank  and 
unconventional  and  as  familiar  as  people  are  in  ordinary  conversation.  The 
novelty  of  this  departure  from  the  usual  habit  of  dramatic  reading  seems  to 
have  offended  the  artistic  sense  of  some  of  her  critics.  Few  of  them,  at  the 
first,  approved  of  her  manner  of  speaking,  though  they  afterwards  referred  to 
her  voice  as  the  only  fault  in  her  acting.  It  is  possible  that  she  may  at  the 
outset  have  still  retained  some  of  the  brogue  of  her  native  country.  The  velvety 
Dublin  accent  is'  a  difficult  matter  to  get  entirely  rid  of,  though  a  flavor  of  it  in 
a  pretty  voice  is  not  at  all  disagreeable.  The  English  probably  found  objection 
to  this  Irish  manner  of  intonation.  We  hear  nothing  of  complaint  concerning 
Peg  Woffington's  voice  from  the  Dublin  critics:  but  it  is  commented  upon 
unfavorably  at  her  first  appearance  in  London. 

"Portia  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  several  capital  ladies,"  remarks  a  writer 
in  The  Censor  in  the  course  of  an  elaborate  chapter  of  criticism,  "and  indeed 
she  not  only  requires  but  merits  the  exertion  of  eminent  abilities.      Mrs.  Wof- 

(100) 


FROM  POETS  TO  CRITICS. 

fington,  whose  deportment  in  a  male  character  was  so  free  and  elegant,  whose 
figure  was  so  proportionate  and  delicate,  notwithstanding  a  voice  unfavorable 
for  declamation,  must,  in  our  opinion,  stand  foremost.  Her  first  scene  was 
supported  with  an  uncommon  degree  of  archness ;  her  behavior  during  Bas- 
sanio's  choice  of  caskets  conveyed  a  strong  picture  of  unstudied  anxiety;  the 
trial  scene  she  sustained  with  amiable  dignity;  the  speech  upon  Mercy  she 
marked  as  well  as  any  one  else  ever  did,  and  in  the  fifth  act  she  carried  on 
the  sham  quarrel  in  a  very  laughable  manner.  To  sum  up  all,  while  in  petti- 
coats she  showed  the  woman  of  solid  sense  and  real  fashion;  when  in  breeches, 
the  man  of  education,  judgment  and  gentility." 

"  Constance,"  the  same  critic  continues,  in  another  review,  "  seldom  fails 
to  make  a  deep  impression  upon  the  audience;  her  circumstances  are  peculiarly 
calculated  to  strike  the  feeling  heart;  dull  must  that  sensation  be  which  is  not 
affected  by  the  distress  of  a  tender  parent,  expressed  in  such  pathetic,  forcible 
terms.  Even  Mrs.  Woffington,  who  from  dissonance  of  tones  might  have  been 
called  the  screech-owl  of  tragedy,  drew  many  tears  in  this  part,  to  which  her 
elegant  figure  and  adequate  deportment  did   not  a  little   contribute." 

And  yet  (to  instance  an  endorsement  of  Woffington's  tragic  powers) 
it  is  recorded  that  Mrs.  Bellamy  was  so  overcome  by  Woffington's  acting  of 
Jocasta  in  the  horrible  tragedy  of  "CEdipus,"  that  she  fainted  on  the  stage 
when   playing  Eurydice  with  her. 

This  has  been  set  down  to  affectation— but,  as  Doran  wisely  comments, 
"  George  Anne  was  not  a  lady  likely  to  affect  a  swoon  for  the  sake  of  com- 
plimenting a   rival  actress." 

The  slasher  in  The  Censor  has  reviled  the  voices  of  the  three  great 
actresses  of  that  time  in  a  criticism  on  "  Tamerlane."  *'  Mrs.  Woffington  figured 
so  elegantly  in  Arpasia,"  he  writes,  "that  her  first  appearance  prejudiced  spectators 
in  her  favor,  but  we  could  never  admire  her  croaking  of  the  part. — Mrs.  Pritchard 
played  the  Princess  much  better,  but  had  not  the  necessary  softness  of  voice  ; 
Mrs.  Bellamy  had  the  proper  degree   of  pathos,   but  whined." 

Peg  Woffington  had  too  much  good  sense  not  to  be  conscious  of  the  fact 
that  her  greatest    power  lay  in   comedy.      Although    an    earnest    and    diligent 

(101) 


■  f  t  t  «   t 

'  « : : 


PERIOD  XL 

student,  she  could  not  be  ignorant  of  the  different  effects  produced  by  her 
appearance  in  tragic  and  humorous  roles.  She  cheerfully  acted  any  part  assigned 
to  her;  but  at  times  the  character  which  she  assumed  rested  on  her  so  uneasily 
that  we  find   her  unjusdy  blamed,  as  in   the   following  instance : 

"Mrs.  Woffington,"  says  one  of  her  critics,*  "who  has  many  qualifi- 
cations of  a  great  actress  besides  the  advantage  of  one  of  the  finest  persons 
that  ever  adorned  a  theatre,  is  apt  to  be  faulty  in  suffering  the  vanity  of  the 
woman  to  mix  with  the  feelings  of  the  actress.  I  have  seen  Mr.  Garrick  in  some 
of  the  less  important  scenes  of  Macbeth  bestow  an  attention  on  the  buttons  of 
his  coat,  which  gave  the  humble  attendant  at  his  side  an  opportunity  of  shining 
by  a  contrast  of  decent  conduct;  and  Mrs.  Barrington,  when  she  played  the 
Cephisa  to  Mrs.  Woffington's  Andromache,  deserved  a  thousand  times  the  applause 
of  her  mistress.  A  decent  distress  ran  thro'  all  Cephisa' s  deportment;  but 
Andromache  was  in  more  pain  about  the  setting  in  her  ruffle  than  the  death  of 
Astyanax  or  the  ghost  of  Hector." 

What  would  this  gentleman  have  said  had  he  attended  the  performances 
of  some  Star  in  our  day,  when  the  remarkable  but  ill-advised  genius  has 
paid  more  attention  to  the  straggling  hairs  of  a  wig  or  the  hour  for 
medicine — which  has  been  frequently  taken  publicly  before  the  audience, — than 
to  the  emotions  of  the  part. 

"Mrs.  Woffington  is  an  excellent  performer,"  continues  the  above  writer, 
"  and  her  comedy  characters,  which  are  all  of  the  first  class,  were  never  so  well 
performed  since  the  death  of  Mrs.  Oldfield;  her  Hermione,  also,  is  an  instance 
that  there  was  scarce  anything  she  could  not  do  in  tragedy.  The  instance 
(noted  above)  was  not  produced  to  condemn  her,  but  to  put  inferior  players 
in  mind  that  they  may  often  profit  by  the   faults  of   the    greater." 

One  of  Woffington's  chief  merits  consisted  in  the  representation  of  females 
in  high  rank  and  dignified  elegance,  whose  graces  of  deportment  as  well  as 
foibles  she  understood  and  displayed  in  the  very  freshest  and  most  original 
manner.  The  fashionable  irregularities  and  sprighdy  coquetry  of  Millamant, 
Lady  Toumly,  Lady  Betty  Modish  and  Maria  in  the  "Nonjuror"  were  exhibited 

*  "  The  Actor;'  page  ioj. 

(102) 


FROM  POETS  TO  CRITICS. 

by  her  with  such  happy  ease  and  gaiety,  and  with  such  great  attractiveness  that 
the  excesses  of  these  characters  appeared  not  only  pardonable  but  agreeable. 

But  she  did  not  confine  herself  to  parts  of  superior  elegance;  she  loved 
to  wanton  with  the  portrayal  of  ignorance  and  absurdity,  and  to  sport  with 
petulance  and  folly,  with  peevishness  and  vulgarity.  Those  who  saw  her 
play  Lady  Pliant  in  Congreve's  "Double  Dealer"  recollected  with  pleasure  her 
whimsical  display  of  passion  and  her  awkwardly  assumed  prudery.  As  Mrs. 
Day  in  "The  Committee"  she  made  no  scruple  to  disguise  her  beautiful 
countenance  by  drawing  upon  it  lines  of  deformity  and  the  wrinkles  of  old  age, 
and  to  put  on  the  tawdry  habiliments  and  vulgar  manners  of  an  old  hypocritical 
city  vixen.  And  as  Phyllis,  in  Steele's  "Conscious  Lovers,"  she  must  have  been 
such  a  soubrette  as  Moliere  would  have  delighted  to  invent  new  deviltries  for. 

Colley  Cibber  at  the  age  of  seventy  professed  himself  Mrs.  Woffington's 
humble  admirer;    he    thought    himself   happy  to    be    her  instructor;    his   chief' 
pleasure    was    to    play  Nykin   or    Fondlewife    in    the    "Old    Bachelor"  to    her 
Cocky  or  Latitia  in   the   same    play. 

She  acted  with  undoubted  approbation  some  parts  in  tragedy,  particularly 
Hermione  in  "The  Distressed  Mother,"  and  even  Lady  Macbeth,  which,  to  show 
her  proficiency,  she  played  alternately  with  certain  comedy  roles;  and  she 
seems  to  have  acquired,  as  she  progressed  in  life,  all  the  skill  in  portraying  the 
passions  which  was  so  justly  admired  in  the  emotional  Mrs.  Cibber  and  the 
stately  Mrs.   Pritchard. 

"Her  natural  vivacity,  joined  to  her  elegant  form,"  says  Victor,* 
"were  admirably  suited  to  the  higher  characters  of  comedy.  This  truth  was 
confirmed  not  only  by  her  Lady  Betty  Modish,  her  Lady  Townly  and  Maria  in 
the  'Nonjuror,'  but  by  her  great  success  in  the  character  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair, 
where  she  appeared  in  the  true  spirit  of  a  well-bred  rake  of  quality,  and 
after  the  death  of  the  celebrated  original,  Mr.  Wilks,  she  remained  the  unrivalled- 
Wildair  during  her  life.  I  know  many  critics  would  not  admit  of  her  power 
for  tragedy;  her  voice  was  not  harmonized  for  the  plaintive  notes  of  sorrow — 
yet,   with    great    deference     to     their  superior    judgment,   her    performance   of 

*  History  of  the  Irish   Theatres.      Vol.  Ill,  page  i. 

(r°3) 


PERIOD  XL 

Andromache  was  much  admired,  where  the  true  spirit  of  the  noble  Grecian 
matron  was  forcibly  and  elegantly  supported.  I  could  mention  other  characters 
in  tragedy  in  which  she  commanded  applause,  but  at  the  same  time  it  must 
be  acknowledged  her  genius  was  superior  in  comedy.  It  was  the  fashion  to 
follow  and  applaud  her  in  a  very  particular  manner  whenever  she  appeared  in 
the  character  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair.  The  approbation  was  not  merely  the 
whim  of  a  winter,  but  it  remained  and  continued  as  long  as  she  chose  to 
represent  that  character;  and  it  must  be  confessed  to  her  praise  as  an  actress 
that  the  ease  of  manner,  vivacity,  address  and  figure  of  a  young  man  of 
fashion  was  never  more  happily  expressed.  The  best  proof  of  the  matter 
is  the  well-known  success  and  profit  she  brought  to  the  different  theafes  in 
England  and  Ireland  whenever  her  name  was  published  for  Sir  Harry  Wildair. 
The  managers  always  had  recourse  to  this  lady  for  this  character  whenever 
they  had  fears  of  the  want  of  an  audience;  and  indeed,  as  she  never,  by 
her  own  articles,  was  to  play  it  but  with  her  own  consent,  she  always  con- 
ferred a  favor  on  the  managers  whenever  she  changed  her  sex  and  filled 
the  house." 

"Genteel  comedy,"  says  Murphy,  "was  her  province.  Angelica  in  'Love 
for  Love,'  Maria  in  'The  Nonjuror'  Mrs.  Sullen  in  'The  Stratagem,'  and 
many  others  of  that  character,  were  the  parts  that  she  adorned  with  all  the 
graces  of  action.  Above  all,  Sir  Harry  Wildair  raised  her  to  the  summit  of 
fame.  Wilks  had  shone  in  that  character  without  a  rival.  In  twelve  years 
after  him  Mrs.  Woffington  undertook  the  part,  and  the  actors,  even  Garrick 
himself,  made  a  voluntary  resignation  to  her.  She  was  the  only  Sir  Harry 
Wildair  during  the  remainder  of  her  life.  Her  figure  was  in  perfect  symmetry, 
her  deportment  graceful  and  sufficiently  manly." 

"So  much  has  been  said  of  Mrs.  Woffington,"  says  Wilkinson,  "in 
Lady'  Tovmly,  Lady  Betty,  etc.,  that  it  is  needless  to  mention  the  elegant  figure 
she  made  in  breeches — she  looked  and  acted  Sir  Harry  Wildair  with  such 
spirit  and  deportment  that  she  gave  flat  contradiction  to  what  Farquhar  asserted, 
that  when  Wilks  died  Sir  Harry  might  go  to  the  jubilee ;  and  yet  so  far 
has    his    prophecy    been    fully    verified,   no    male    performer,   even   Garrick,  or 

(104) 


FROM  POETS  TO  CRITICS. 

Woodward,  or  Barry,  or  Foote,  succeeded,  but  all  have  failed  in  that  part.     Mrs. 
Woffington,   however,   repeated   it  with    unceasing  applause    for  several  years.0 

From  some  MS.  of  contemporary  opinion,  which  was  bequeathed  to 
the   Garrick   Club  by   Mr.    Dame,   I   may  quote   the   following: 

"It  must  be  confessed,"  writes  one  critic  of  her  own  time,  whose 
effusions  have  been  preserved,  "that  all  ye  parts  that  go  with  Breeches  have 
not  for  many  years  past  appeared  to  such  advantage  as  in  her  Representation 
of  them.  Indeed  when  she  assumes  ye  man  there  is  such  a  freedom  in  her 
air,  such  a  Disengagement  from  ye  woman,  with  ye  happiness  of  Being  perfectly 
well  made,  that  it  is  by  no  means  surprising  that  she  has  been  followed  with 
such  uncommon  &  universal  applause.  As  to  ye  other  characters  she  has 
appeared  in  (not  to  mention  one  of  ye  most  agreeable  Figures  that  has  been 
seen  on  ye  Stage)  the  applause  she  has  Received  may  answer  for  her  merit 
in  Performing  them.  She  is  eminently  Graceful  in  ye  character  of  Lady 
Townly,  Lady  Betty  Modish,  Lady  Lurewell,  Lady  Brute,  The  Scornful  Lady, 
Mrs.  Sullen,  Berinthia,  &c,  &c,  &c,  all  which  Incontestably  prove  her  to  be 
mistress   of  uncommon   Genius." 

Macklin,  though  not  slow  nor  chary  in  admitting  Woffington's  excellence 
in  her  male  parts,  was  loth  to  admit  the  propriety  of  any  woman  playing  them. 
"  There  is  such  a  reverse  in  all  the  habits  and  modes  of  the  two  sexes,  acquired 
from  the  very  cradle  upward,"  he  writes,  "that  it  is  next  to  an  impossi- 
bility for  the  one  to  resemble'  the  other  so  as  to  totally  escape  detection. 
Garrick,  who  was  a  great  judge  of  his  art,  always  thought  so,  and  when  the 
case  of  Woffington's  Sir  Harry  was  offered  as  an  exception  to  this  rule, 
Garrick  would  not  admit  it.  He  said  'It  was,  no  doubt,  a  great  attempt 
for  a  woman,  but  it  was  not  Sir  Harry  Wildair!  It  is  but  fair  to  state, 
however,  in  connection  with  the  great  actor's  opinion,  that  Garrick  failed 
disastrously  in  his  effort  to  play  Wildair,  and  may  have  been  somewhat 
jealous  of  Woffington's   success  in   the  part." 

"She  tried  her  powers  of  acting  a  tragedy  rake,  for  Lothario  is  certainly 
of  that  cast,"  says  Davies,  "but  whether  she  was  as  greatly  accomplished  in 
the    manly    tread  of    the  buskined    libertine  as    she  was   in    the  gay  walk  of 

*4  (105) 


PERIOD  XL 

the  sprightlier  gentleman  I  know  not,  but  it  is  certain  she  did  not  meet 
with  the  same   approbation   in   the  part  of   Lothario   as    in    that  of    Wildair." 

Another  critic,  in  the  London  Evening  Advertiser,  writing  of  this 
performance  of  Lothario  (in  which,  by  the  way,  she  was  only  seen  in  London 
during  the  last  year  of  her  acting  on  the  stage,  when  the  disease  which  later 
brought  her  career  to  its  tragic  close  may  even  then  have  commenced  to  make 
itself  felt  both  in  her  study  and  her  performance),  says:  "Mrs.  Woffington 
appeared  on  the  occasion  of  her  benefit  for  the  first  time  as  Lothario  in  'The 
Fair  Penitent.'  The  interest  which  the  heart  naturally  takes  in  the  business 
of  this  play  was  weakened  by  the  consciousness  that  a  woman  was  playing 
the  part;  but  we  must  say  that  Mrs.  Woffington  takes  off  her  hat,  draws  her 
sword,  fights,  and  dies  with  such  an  elegant  gallantry  that  she  becomes  the 
prettiest  fellow  on   the  stage." 

Davies  compares  Oldfield,  Woffington  and  Clive  in  a  single  strong 
sentence: — 

"Lady  Townly,"  he  writes,  "has  been  universally  said  to  be  Mrs. 
Oldfield's  ne  plus  ultra  in  acting.  She  slided  so  gracefully  into  the"  foibles, 
and  displayed  so  humorously  the  excesses  of  a  fine  woman,  too  sensible  of 
her  charms,  too  confident  of  her  powers,  and  led  away  by  her  passion  for 
pleasure,  that  no  succeeding  lady  arrived  at  her  many  distinguished  excellencies 
in  that  character,  though  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Woffington  came  nearest  to  her; 
but  Mrs.  Clive  gave  criticism  an  idea  that  Lord  Townly  had  married  his  cook- 
maid:    vulgar  in   the  polite   scenes,   and   dissonant  in   the   pathetic." 

"The  difference,"  says  the  censorious  author  of  "The  Actor,"  "between 
the  tragedian  and  the  comedian  of  a  cast,  in  point  of  voice,  is  that  one  must 
have  a  great  voice,  the  other  a  great  command  of  it.  And  yet  more  of  this 
is  required  in  the  actress  than  the  actor  in  the  tender  scenes  of  comedy. 
We  have  seen  more:  some  men  succeed  in  these  parts  with  only  tolerable 
voices,  women  never  without  excellent  ones.  Mrs.  Woffington  wanted  only 
this   requisite  to  have   excelled  all   the  women   in   the  world." 

In  the  face  of  these  varied  opinions  and  often  unduly  harsh  judgments 
of  her  critics,   Woffington   continued  always  to   be    the    prime  favorite   of    her 

(106) 


FROM  POETS   TO   CRITICS. 

audiences.  I  have  no  doubt  that  many  liked  her  better  in  some  of  her  per- 
formances than  in  others — but,  spite  of  contemporary  familiarity  with  her 
methods  and  artifices,  that  familiarity  which  makes  stale  at  times  even  the  most 
varied  talent,  she  undoubtedly  remained  until  her  sudden  "taking  off"  from 
the  stage  life,   the   most   popular  actress   of  her  time. 

And,  as  we  have  already  seen,  she  was  not  less  successful  in  polite  Society, 
than  on  the  stage.  Her  witty  epigrams  fell  on  appreciative  ears,  and  were  re- 
peated everywhere  in  her  praise.  And  to  her,  more  frequently  than  any  of  her 
sex  during  her  lifetime,  were  sonnets  and  verses  addressed  or  dedicated,  by  the 
beaux  and   wits  of  the   day. 

One  of  these  which  I  shall  quote  was  written  during  her  last  engage- 
ment at   Drury   Lane,   and   afterwards    reprinted  in   the  Gentleman's   Magazine. 

ON   MRS.   WOFFINGTON. 

Tho'    Peggy's   charms   have   oft  been   sung, 
The   darling   theme   of   every  tongue — 

New   praises   still    remain. 
Beauties   like   hers    may    well   infuse 
New   flights,   new   fancies   to   the   muse, 

And   brighten   every   strain. 

'Tis   not   her   form   alone   I   prize, 
Which   every   fool   that   has   but   eyes 

As  well  as   I   can  see : 
To   say   she's   fair   is   but   to   say 
When   the   sun   shines   at   noon   'tis   day, 

Which    none   need   learn   of    me. 

But   I'm    in   love   with    Peggy's   mind 
Where   every   virtue   is   combined 

That   can   adorn   the   fair — 
Excepting   one   you   scarce   can   miss, 
So   trifling   that  you   would   not   wish 

That  virtue  had  been  there. 

She   who   possesses   all   the   rest 

Must  sure   excel   the   prude,  whose   breast 

That   virtue  shares   alone. 
To   seek   perfection   is   a  jest, 
They  who   have   fewest   faults   are   best — 

And   Peggy  has  but  one ! 

(107) 


PERIOD  XI. 

In   the   London    Magazine   of    February,    1749,    the   following    lines    were 
also   addressed  to   her: 

ON    SEEING    MRS.     WOFFINGTON    APPEAR     IN    SEVERAL    TRAGICK 

CHARACTERS. 

Delightful   Woffington !     So   formed   to   please  ! 

Strikes   every   taste,   can   every  passion    raise : 

In   shapes   as   various   as   her   Sexe's   are — 

And  all   the   Woman   seems   comprised   in   her. 

With   easy   diction    &  becoming   mien, 

Distinguished   shines    &   shines   in   every   scene. 

The   prude   and   the   coquet   in   her   we   find, 

And   all   the   foibles   of   the   fairer   kind, 

Expressed   in  characters   themselves   would   own, 

The   manners   such   as   might   the  vice   atone. 

Her  taking   graces   win   them    new   esteem, 

They're   changed   to   virtues,   or  like   virtues   seem. 

If  tragic   airs   in   solemn  strains   she   shows, 

The   pitying   audience   feel   the   mimick   woes, 

The   soft   affection   swims   in   gushing   tears. 

We   weep  the   ills   of  twice   two   thousand   years : 

When    warlike  Pyrrhus  woos   th'    afflicted    fair, 

Then   all   Andromache's   displayed    in    her. 

The   springs   of   nature   feel   her   powerful   art 

She   moves   the   passions   &   she   melts   the   heart. 

Her   noble   manner   all  the   soul   alarms 

When  sorrow   shakes   us   or   when   virtue   charms, 

Sincere   emotions   in   each   bosom    rise 

And    real   anguish   knows   no   mock    disguise 

Who   would   not  beauty's   falling   fate   deplore, 

Who   sees   her  faint   &   droop   &  sink   in    Shore  I 

The   dying   fair   excites  such  gen'rous  pain, 

What  bosom   bleeds   not  when   she   begs   in   vain ! 

Extreme   distress   so   feelingly   she   draws 

She   seems  to   challenge — not   to   court   applause. 

Secure   of  worth,   not  anxious  of   her   claim, 

She  coldly  draws   a   careless   bill   on   fame. 

The   noblest   sentiments   by   her   display'd 

In   all   the  pomp   of    Milton's    Muse   array'd, 

Emphatic   beauties   from   her   hand   receive 

Adorned   by  .graces  which   they   used   to   give. 

Envy   herself    distorted   tribute   pays, 

And  Candour   spreads   &  Justice   crowns   her   lays. 

(108) 


FROM  POETS   TO   CRITICS. 

To  fit  the  marked  characteristics  of  Peg  Woffington's  voice,  prologues  and 
epilogues  were  especially  written :  each  to  suit  her  method  of  delivery.  She  had 
achieved  a  considerable  reputation  by  the  grace  and  simplicity  with  which  she 
delivered  these  elocutionary  features  of  the  drama.  She  rendered  them  with 
so  much  expression  and  grace  that  the  poets  and  dramatists  of  her  time 
rivalled  one  another  in   composing  verses   for  her  to   speak. 

"  I  shall  leave  Mrs.  Woffington  to  proceed  in  the  path  of  Merit,  where 
she  still  leads,"  says  Chetwood,  "with  an  Epilogue  wrote  purely  for  her  manner 
of  speaking.  And  as  Prologues  and  Epilogues  are  the  most  difficult  tasks  of 
both  Sexes  on  the  Stage,  it  is  to  be  remarked  but  few  besides  the  Principal 
Performers  are  trusted  with  them ;  &  a  good  Prologue  &  Epilogue  have  often 
help'd  a  bad  Play  out  of  the  Mire  &  at  least  sent  the  Audience  home  better 
humoured." 

There  is  quite  a  rare  print  extant,  depicting  Woffington  in  the  delivery 
of  the  Epilogue  thus  referred  to  by  Chetwood.  It  must  have  been  issued  at 
the  time  of  the  Jacobite  Rebellion,  when  Lacy  offered  to  enroll  all  his  company 
into  a  regiment  of  Volunteers  to  protect  His  Majesty  the  Second  George, 
who   was   then  on   the  throne.     The   title   of  the   print  reads  as   follows: 

"AN  EPILOGUE 

Designed  to  be  spoken  by 

MRS.    WOFFINGTON 

In  the   Character  of  a    Volunteer. 


Enters,  Reading  a    Gazette." 

The  verses  are  .rabidly  anti-popish  arid  quite  as  wildly  patriotic.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  perpetuate  all  of  them — and  a  sample  will  suffice  to  give  the 
taste  of  the  whole: 

Curse  on  all  cowards,  say  I !      Why  bless  my  eyes ! 

No,  no,  it  can't  be  true ;   this  gazette  lies — 

Our  men  retreat  before  a  scrub  banditti 

Who  scarce  could  fight  the  bun-coats  of  the  city  ? 

(109) 


PERIOD   XI 

Well,    if  'tis   so,  and   that   our   men   can't   stand, 
Tis  time   we   women   take  the   thing  in   hand. 
Thus   in   my   country's   cause   I   would   appear 
A   bold,  smart  khonen  hollered  Volunteer, 
And   really   mark   some   heroes  in   the   nation ! 
Ye'll   think   this   no   unnatural   transformation — 
For   if    in   valour   real    manhood   lies, 
All   cowards  are  but   women  in   disguise. 
******* 
Shou'd   these  audacious   sons   of    Rome   prevail, 
Vows,   convents,   and   that   heathen   thing,   a  veil, 
Must   come   in   fashion,   and   such   institutions 
Wou'd   suit  but  oddly  with   our   constitutions. 
What   gay   coquette   would   brook   a   nun's   profession? 
And   I've  some  private   reasons   'gainst  confession. 

There  are  many  notable  portraits  of  this  beautiful  creature  in  the  galleries 
of  England  and  Ireland.  Some  have  been  made  familiar  to  us  through  well- 
known  mezzotints;  others  are  not  so  familiar  to  the  general  eye.*  The  Dublin 
Society  Rooms  possess  a  fine  kit-kat  painting  of  her  by  Latham.  The  artist 
has  drawn  her  attired  in  the  character  of  some  theatrical  personage.  She  wears 
a  hat  in  the  picture,  and  is  dressed  in  a  green  silk  domino,  trimmed  with  white 
lace.  In  his  portrait  Latham  has  made  an  especial  study  of  Mrs.  Woffington's 
hands,  which  were  considered  models  of  slender  beauty.  The  Garrick  Club  has 
four  portraits  of  her,  painted  by  Wilson,  Eccard,  Mercier  and  Hogarth.  Hogarth's 
picture  discloses  the  actress  at  full  length,  reclining  on  a  couch,  with  a  book  in 
one   hand  and  a  miniature   in  the  other.f    The  same  artist  also  painted  a  half- 


*  Through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  J.  Challotier  Smith  I  am  able  to  present  in  t/ds 
volume  photogravures  of  some  of  the  rarest  of  these  old  mezzotints.  The  full-length  copy 
representing  Mrs.  Woffington  as  Mrs.  Ford  is  taken  from  an  original  print  of  exceptional 
rarity — otdy  four  being  knoivn  to  exist.  At  the  recent  sale  of  Mr.  Smith's  collection  of 
mezzotints  his  copy  of  this  old  print  brought  forty  pounds  under  the  hammer.  Francis  Harvey, 
of  St.  James  Street,  London,  had  sold  a  copy  only  a  few  months  previously  for  twenty-five  pounds. 

t  A  recent  writer  in  the  Fortnightly  Review,  describing  the  pictures  in  the  Garrick 
Club  of  London,  may  be  quoted.,  as  he  gives  a  good  idea  of  two  of  this  bewitching  woman's 
portraits  {permission  to  copy  which  has  been  uniformly  refused) : — "  We  see  her,  in  the  Garrick, 
the  versatile,  bewitching  and  zvhimsical  Irishwoman,  well  portrayed  in  several  cattvases.  There 
is  a  Hogarth  in  the  drawing-room  which  represents  hereon  a  couch,  'dallying  and  dangerous,' 
as  Charles  Lamb  wrote  of  this  picture ;  a   lovely  recumbent  figure  in   a  reddish-brown  dress, 

(no) 


FROM  POETS  TO  CRITICS. 

length  portrait  of  Woffington  as  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  which  was  formerly  in  the 
collection  of  Lord  Lansdowne.  Another  portrait  of  her  by  Hogarth,  and  a 
miniature  by  Hone,  were  until  recently  in  the  Lonsdale  Gallery,  which  was 
sold  under  the  hammer  in  1887  when  that  collection  was  dispersed.*  A 
later  one  by  Arthur  Pond,  painted  during  the  closing  period  of  Woffington's 
life,  was  presented  to  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  at  South  Kensington,  by 
Sir  Thomas  Martin.  It  represents  her  reclining  on  a  couch,  with  her  head 
encircled  with  the  frill  of  a  coquettish  night-cap.  It  was  probably  the  last 
picture   ever  taken   of  this   lovely   woman. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  we  have  no  particulars  of  Woffington's  ac- 
quaintance with  Hogarth.  To  judge  from  the  number  of  different  portraits 
evidendy  painted  from  the  original  subject  by  the  great  artist,  there  must  have 
been  a  more  than  common  sympathy  between  the  two.  Woffington  was  un- 
doubtedly a  friend,  and  possibly  a  patron  of  the  artists  and  literati  of  her  day, 
for  her  name  is  to  be  found  printed  among  the  subscribers  to  many  of  the 
"special"   and   "first"    editions   issued   in   her  time. 


with  tiny  white-slippered  feet  outstretched.  The  colour  of  the  picture  is  somewhat  dart  and 
perished,  but  the  face  is  rendered  with  that  special  aptitude  for  beauty  which  is  not  a  sufficiently 
well  recognised  attribute  of  the  great  caricaturist.  Close  by  is  another  Woffington,  painted  by 
a  less  famous  hand,  that  of  Mercier,  possibly  less  truthful,  but  certainly  tnore  beautiful. 
His  work  is  exceedingly  fresh,  and  in  looking  at  this  charming  portrait  of  Woffington,  with 
its  lovely  face,  its  dark  expressive  eyes  and  engaging  aspect,  we  can  understand  the  empire 
she  exercised  over  men's  hearts." 

*  Austin  Dobson,  in  a  recent  number  of  the  Magazine  of  Art,  discoursing  upon  certain 
portraits  of  Woffington,  refers  to  "  one  in  the  Jones  Collection  at  South  Kensington  which  repre- 
sents her  in  the  flower  of  Iter  beauty,  wearing  the  coquettish  lace  cap  she  loved,  with  lace  at 
her  shoulders,  her  elbows,  and  round  her  apron.  She  has  a  pet  bird  upon  her  shoulder,  and 
her  brown,  unpowdered  hair  is  turned  behind  her  ears.  Upon  her  forehead  the  artist  has  been 
careful  to  indicate  that  tirty  lock  which  Hogarth  in  the  'Analysis'  affirms  to  be  so  especially 
seductive."  "But,"  he  writes,  "the  painter  of  this  likeness  is  unknown."  This  portrait,  or  a  copy 
of  the  same,  was  catalogued  in  the  recent  Lonsdale  sale  at  Christie's  in  London  (1887),  as  by 
Hogarth,  and  was  billed  as  such  to  the  purchaser.  A  fair  print  of  this  picture,  with  another 
depicting  her  as  an  invalid,  after  a  painting  by  Pond  made  a  year  before  her  death  {1738),  were 
recently  published  in  the  Magazine  of  Art,  and  are  given  in  this  book  by  permission  of  Messrs. 
C as  sell  &  Co. 


(Ill) 


PERIOD   XII. 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 


ARRICK  had  been  married  to  the  fair  Violette  three  years  before 
Peg  Woffington  went  to  Dublin ;  therefore  chagrin  at  being  jilted  by 
her  former  swain  for  another  'fair'  could  not  have  been  one  of  the 
causes,  as  some  asserted,  of  her  shaking  the  dust  of  London  from  her  slippers — 
and  once  more  seeking  her  native  isle.  It  is  certain  that  when  Woffington 
reached  Dublin  she  had  no  engagement.  If  she  had  any  thought  of  acting  she 
could  have  had  no  immediate  prospect  of  it — nor  any  thought  of  the  years 
which  would  elapse  before  she  would  again  tread  the  quiet  lanes  of  her  beloved 
Teddington.  It  is  likely  that,  worn  out  and  heart-sick  with  the  contentions  of 
the  past  few  seasons,  she  was  only  too  glad  to  fly  as  far  as  possible  from 
the  scenes  of  that  warfare,  and  her  heart  guided  her  back  to  her  mother's 
side  and  to  the  scenes  of  her  girlhood.  What  woman  of  the  world,  in  the 
midst  of  the  cares  and  cankers  of  superficial  life,  has  not  yearned  for  the 
peaceful,  assuring  caress  of  an  absent  mother's  loving  hand,  or  the  quiet  of 
her  childhood's   home ! 

Among  many  welcoming  lines  addressed  to  this  gifted  woman  upon 
her  return  to  Ireland,  I  find  the  following  in  the  London  Magazine  of  September, 
1 75 1,  though  evidently  written  by  a  fellow-countryman.  It  is  called  "A  Song  on 
Mrs.  Woffington's  Visit  to  Ireland  in  July,  1751."  It  is  apparent  that  the  writer 
had   no  idea  that  the   subject  of  his  Apostrophe  had  come  to  stay. 

(112) 


THE 


FEMALE     VOLUNTEER: 

OR, 

an  Attempt  to  make  our  Men  Stand. 


An  fePlLOGUE  intended  to  befpokn  by  Mrs.  Woffington  in  the  Habit  $fa  F&nper, 
upon  reading  the  Gazette  containing  an  Account  of  the  lateAclion  at  Falkirk. 

PLaouz  of  all  Cowards,  fay  I — why  bids  my  Eye* — 
No,  no,  it  can't  be  rnic — The  Gazette  lies. 
Our  Men  retreat !  before  a  Scrub  Banditti ! 
Who  fcarce  could  fright  the  Buff-Coats  of  the  Cfcy  !— 
Wei),  if  'tis  (b,  and  that  our  Men  can't  ftand, 
*Tis  Time  we  Women  take  the  Thing  in  HwU. 


Thus  in  my  Country's  Caufo  I  now  appear. 

A  bold,  fmart,  Kevtnbulier'd  Volunteer  j 

And  really,  mark  (bote  Heroes  in  the  Nation, 

You'll  think  this  no  uniut'ra]  Transformation  : 

For  if  in  Valour  real  Manhood  lie, 

All  Cowards  are  but  Women  in  DUguifc. 

They  cry,  tliefe  Rebels  are  lb  (tout  and  tall ! 

Ah  lud  1  Vd  lower  the  proudtjt  of  tbm  til. 

Try  but  my  Metal,  place  me  in  the  Van, 

And  poft  me,  if  I  don't— bring  doom  my  Man. 

Had  we  an  Army  of  fuch  valorous  Wenches, 

What  Man,  d'ye  think,  would  dare  attack  our  Trenches  t 

O  1  how  th'Artillery  of  our  Eytt  would  maul  'em. 

Buty our msk'd Batteries,  lud!  how  they  would gatt'mt 

No  Rebels  'gainft  fuch  Force  dare  take  the  Field  i 

For,  d-mme,  but'  we'd  die  before  we'd  yield. 

Jcfting  apart—  We  Women  have  ftrong  Uealbn, 

To  flop  the  Progrcfc  of  this  Popifh  Trealbn : 

•LONDON:   Pruned  for  M.  Mooaz, 


For  furc  when  Female  Liberty's  at  Stake, 
All  Women  ought  to  bujilt  for  its  Sake  : 
Should  thefe  audacious  Sons  of  Rom*  prevail. 
Vows, -CoNviNTS,-and  that  heathen  Thtng-theViU. 
Muft  come  in  Falhion.     Oh !  fuch  Inftkuoons 
Would  futt  but  odly  with  our— Constitutions. 
What  gay  Coquet  wouk1  brook  a  Nun's  Pmfeffion  ! 
And  I've  Come  private  Rzasons  'gainft  Confefuon, 
Bcfides,  our  good  Men  of  the  Church,  they  lay, 
(Who  now,  thank  HeaVn,  may  levt  at  wcO  u  pray; 
Muft  then  be  only  wed  to  doifter'd  Houfes, 
Slap  theft  we're  nick'd  of  20,000  Spouses  ( 
Fakh,  and  no  bad  ones,  at  I'm  told  :  then  judge  ye. 
Is*  t  fit  we  lot  our  Bimifit  of  Clergy  ? 

fa  Freedom's  Caufe,  ye  Patriot-Far,  jpfr. 
Exert  the  (acred  Influence  of  your  Eyes  s 
On  valiant  Merit  deign  alone  to  finite, 
And  vindicate  the  Glory  of  our  Me  •, 
To  no  bale  Coward  proftnute  your  Charms, 
Difband  the  Lover  who  deserts  his  Arms : 
So  (hall  you  fire  each  Hero  to  his  Duty, 
And  Britijb  Rights  be  fav'd  by  Britijb  Beauty  - 

in  Pottr-ntnUr-Rtm,  t?*6>     Price  Six  Pence, 


MRS.  WOFFINGTON  in    "AN  EPILOGUE." 


.... 

•     •       •  • 


....      • 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 

Lavinia,   whom   so   long   we   mourn'd, 
With   mirth   and   beauty   is   return'd. 
Again   she   gilds  Jerne's   plains 
And  cheers  anew  its  drooping   swains. 
Now  joy  o'er  ev'ry  visage  spreads, 
And  ev'ry  plant  her  influence  sheds; 
The  fields  their  verdure  fresher  show; 
The  flowers  with   richer  colors  glow. 
Where'er  she  treads  there  pleasure  moves 
The  graces  there,  and  there  the  loves. 
The  semblance  in  each  part  is  seen 
Her  face,  her  shape,  her  angel  mien. 
But  who  can  say  the  fond  surprize 
The  heav'n  that  glances  from  her  eyes? 
Ah !    there  bewitching  softness  dwells 
More  binding  than  e'en   magic  spells. 
Ah!    could  we  stay  the   lovely  maid 
Or  would  some  pity'ng  pow'r  persuade 
Her  here  forever  to  remain, 
To  give  us   golden  days  again, 
And  gently   o'er  our  hearts  preside 
Our  flocks,   our  lawns  and  what  beside, 
Then  blest  our  time  would  glide  away 
Happy  beneath  her  downy  sway. 

Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan,  the  father  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  was  at 
that  time  manager  of  the  Smock  Alley  Theatre.  The  house  in  Aungier  Street 
was  fallen  into  decay,  and  the  Crow  Street  Theatre  had  not  yet  been  thought 
cf.  Smock  Alley,  therefore,  was  not  only  the  most  fashionable,  it  was  the 
only  theatre  in  Dublin  where  a  respectable  talent  could  with  honor  to  itself 
accept  an  engagement.  The  reigning  star  of  the  Dublin  stage  at  this  time 
was   Mrs.    Bland,   afterwards   the   mother  of  the   famous   Dora  Jordan. 

Colley  Cibber  had  sent  to  his  friend,  Sheridan,  and  to  the  latter's  stage- 
manager,  Victor,  many  extravagant  eulogies  of  Mrs.  Woffington  before  she 
quitted  Covent  Garden.  "  But  as  that  very  happy,  singular  old  gentleman," 
says  Victor,  "retained  the  air  of  a  lover  long  after  he  was  seventy,  we 
attributed  his  encomiums  on  this  lady's  perfections  in  tragedy  to  the  excess 
of  his  passion   for  her." 

»5  ("3) 


PERIOD  XII. 

However,  Sheridan  was  persuaded,  after  much  hesitation,  to  make  the 
experiment  of  engaging  so  expensive  an  artist.  The  terms  finally  agreed 
on  were  four  hundred  pounds  per  annum  and,  in  addition  to  this,  the  entire 
proceeds   of  two   special   nights  as   Benefits   during   the   year. 

Sheridan  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Woffington  act  for  many  years,  and  he 
had  then  thought  her  in  no  way  superior  to  his  very  popular  leading  lady,  Mrs.' 
Bland.  But  at  the  close  of  the  first  performance,  on  which  occasion  "The 
Provoked  Husband"  was  acted,  with  Woffington  in  Oldfield's  great  part  of 
Lady  Townly,  he  acknowledged  that  Bland  was  obscured.  The  extraordinary 
esteem  in  which  the  people  of  Dublin  held  her  performances,  and  the  profit 
that  came  to  him  through  the  entire  engagement,  speedily  convinced  him  that 
the  opinion  of  London  on  her  merits  was  a  correct  one,  and  he  soon  joined 
the  throng  of  her  admirers,  ever  afterwards  maintaining  that  Woffington  was 
the  greatest  actress    in   the  world. 

"  It  was  at  this  era,"  writes  Macklin,  "  that  Woffington  might  be  said 
to  have  reached  the  acme  of  her  fame.  She  was  then  in  the  bloom  of  her 
person,  accomplishments  and  profession ;  highly  distinguished  for  her  wit  and 
vivacity:  with  a  charm  of  conversation  that  at  once  attracted  the  admiration 
of  the   men   and   the   envy  of  the   women."  * 

Mr.  Sheridan  was  not  only  a  very  excellent  actor  himself  (though 
somewhat  stiff  and  pedantic,  if  judged  by  the  standard  of  to-day),  but  he  was 
also  an  excellent  judge  of  acting  in  others.  He  was  noted  too,  for  the  courtesy 
of  his  manners  and  the  generosity  of  his  nature.  Peg  Woffington,  therefore, 
had  as  much  reason  to  congratulate  herself  on  gaining  the  many  advantages 
of  his  management  as  Sheridan  had  cause  to  be  proud  of  such  an  accession 
to  his  theatre,  f  That  each  was  justified  in  regarding  the  other  amiably  was 
soon  made  evident.  Sheridan's  theatre  on  the  first  night  of  the  return  of 
Dublin's  "lovely  Peggy"  was  crowded  to  the  doors,  and  this  enthusiasm 
of  the  people  continued  without  abatement  as  long  as  she  remained  in  the 
city.  J      By  four  of  her  performances,  viz.:    Lady  Townly,  Maria,  Hermione  and 


*  European  Magazine,   May,  1800. 

f  Victor's  History   of  Theatres.  \  Ibid. 

(114) 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 

Sir  Harry  Wildair  (each  played  ten  times),  the  receipts  of  Smock  Alley 
Theatre  were  over  four  thousand  pounds,  an  amount  that  had  never  before 
been   equalled  by  any   theatre  with   old  stock  plays. 

During  the  first  year  of  her  stay  at  the  Smock  Alley  Theatre  the 
manager  ascribed  her  great  popularity  in  a  measure  to  the  novelty  of  her 
performances,  and  the  curiosity  and  patriotic  enthusiasm  of  her  townsfolk.  But 
at  the  close  of  the  third  year  of  Woffington's  engagement  in  Dublin  the 
receipts  had  fallen  off  only  three  hundred  pounds  from  the  amount  taken  in 
during  her  first  season* 

In  a  letter  to  the  Countess  of  Orrery,  dated  October  21st,  1751,  Victor 
writes : 

"Woffington  has  been  the  only  theme  in  or  out  of  the  theatre.  Her 
performances  were  in  general  admirable.  She  appeared  in  Lady  Townly,  and 
since  Mrs.  Oldfield  I  have  not  seen  a  complete  Lady  Townly  till  that  night. 
In  Andromache  her  grief  was  dignified  and  her  deportment  elegant.  In  Jane 
Shore  nothing  appeared  remarkable  but  her  superior  figure.  But  in  Hermione 
she  discovered  such  talents  as  have  not  been  displayed  since  Mrs.  Porter. 
In  short,  poor  Bland  is  inevitably  undone.  For  those  fools,  her  greatest 
admirers,  who  had  not  sense  enough  to  see  her  defects  before,  now  see  them 
by  the   comparison." 

During  her  first  season  in  Dublin  Woffington  was  worked  hard,  in  an 
extensive  repertoire,  exhibiting  every  phase  of  nature  from  Lothario  to  Mrs. 
Day  (a  grotesque  old  woman's  part),  both  of  which  she  acted  for  the  first 
time  in  Dublin ;  while  she  also  appeared  in  several  new  roles,  and  alternately 
revived  those  in  which  she  had  made  a  brilliant  reputation.  Her  list  of  parts 
thus  included  Phyllis,  Cleopatra,  Lady  Betty  Modish,  Rosalind,  Zara,  Sir  Harry, 
Charlotte,  Hermione,  Jane  Shore  and  Donna  Hypolita:  certainly  a  broad  and 
varied  range  of  characters  for  any  one  woman.  During  her  entire  engage- 
ment in  Dublin  Woffington  never  once  offered  the  excuse  of  a  real  or 
pretended  illness,  but  appeared  at  each  performance  and  acted  her  part  faith- 
fully and  with    her  accustomed   spirit.      In   addition   to    this  adherence    to   the 


*  Victor's  History. 

(»5) 


PERIOD  XII. 

commands  of  duty,  Woffington  played  at  twenty-four  benefits,  given  during 
her  third  season  to  relieve  the  poor  or  in  aid  of  some  worthy  object.*  So 
that  the  high  reputation  which  she  gained  from  this  Irish  engagement  was 
earned  by  this  glorious   woman  through   earnest  and  conscientious   effort. 

Affairs  in  London  during  Woffington's  first  year  in  Dublin  were  not 
such  as  to  delight  the  heart  of  anyone  having  the  highest  interests  of  the 
theatre  at  heart.  Rich,  who  had  expressed  much  chagrin  the  previous  year  at 
being  outdone  by  Garrick  in  his  own  special  field  of  pantomime,  this  season 
quite  recovered  himself  and  regained  every  inch  of  ground  he  had  lost.  He 
produced  a  pantomime  entitled  "  Harlequin  Sorcerer "  with  very  remarkable 
results.  Wilkinson  says  "There  never  was  anything  before  like  the  rage  for  it. 
The  doors  had  to  be  opened  three  hours  before  commencing  to  relieve  the 
streets  about  Covent  Garden  of  the  crowd.  It  made  Garrick  and  Old  Drury 
tremble — for  all  they  got  was  the  discontented  'overflow'  of  children  and  the 
grown-up    masters   and  misses   who   failed   to  get  in    to    see    the    pantomime." 

For  the  first  time  this  season  (1751-52)  all  theatres  in  London  were 
closed  during  Holy  week,  or,  as  it  is  called,  Passion  week ;  a  practice  that 
was  maintained  until   within   the   past  year  or  two. 

During  the  first  year  of  Woffington's  stay  in  Ireland  Owen  McSwiney, 
formerly  one  of  the  managers  of  Drury  Lane  and  a  man  of  considerable  wealth, 
having  made  his  will  in  favor  of  Peggy,  very  accommodatingly  died.  He  had 
been  not  only  her  devoted  admirer  but  a  warm  friend  for  many  years,  and  had 
watched  her  continued  successes  on  the  stage  with  fatherly  pride.  McSwiney, 
being  desirous  to  secure  her  in  a  comfortable  income  during  her  life,  had  invested 
his  fortune  in  consols,  so  that  she  should  receive  from  it  two  hundred  pounds 
a  year.  This  bequest  he  made,  however,  with  one  stipulation.  McSwiney  being 
a  Protestant,  by  his  will  declared  that  in  order  to  benefit  by  its  provisions 
she  must  renounce  the   Catholic  faith  to  which  she   nominally   belonged. 

It  is  probable  that  Woffington  had  no  very  strong  predilections  toward 
any    particular    church.       It    does    not    seem    from     the    opinions    which    were 


*  Victor's  History ;    also  Hitchcock's  Irish  Stage. 

(116) 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 

expressed  at  the   time  that  she  had  any  scruples   about  accepting    the  legacy 
and  fulfilling  its  conditions. 

To  observe  the  requirements  of  the  testator,  at  Christmas  Mrs.  Woffing- 
ton  and  Mr.  Sheridan  took  a  holiday  and  journeyed  together  down  to  the 
manager's  country  seat  at  Guilca,  some  fifty  miles  from  Dublin.  Here  they 
were  met  by  a  clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  whose  parish  was  situated 
in  so  remote  and  lonely  a  spot  that  he  had  been  dubbed  the  Primate  of  the 
Mountains.  To  this  divine  Peg  Woffington  made  her  recantation  of  faith,  and 
was  formally  received  by  him  into  the  Established  Church.  The  act  might 
have  been  performed  in  Dublin,  of  course,  but  Woffington,  probably,  did  not 
wish  to  have  the  matter  public  lest  it  should  mortally  offend  her  mother  and 
perhaps   injure  her  popularity  among  the   devout  Irish  people. 

The  mysterious  affair  occasioned  a  fine  scandal  in  the  capital.  Sheridan's 
wife  had  not  accompanied  the  pair  in  their  trip  to  Guilca.  She  was  fully 
acquainted,  however,  with  the  object  of  their  visit,  but,  in  accordance  with  the 
request  of  her  husband,  had  not  mentioned  it,  and  as  she  had  full  and  deserved 
confidence  in  Sheridan,  was  much  amused  by  the  pother  which  the  gossips 
made  over  the  matter.  The  Dublin  scandal-mongers  seized  hold  of  the  incident 
and  tortured  it  into  an  elopement  of  manager  and  actress.  I  can  imagine 
with  what  blazing  head-lines  such  a  circumstance  would  be  heralded  in  some  of 
the  prurient  prints  of  our  own  day.  The  complexion  thus  put  on  their  visit 
to  the  country  was  quite  satisfactory  to  the  interested  parties,  however,  both 
of  whom  were  conscious  that  a  scandal  so  absurd  would  be  less  detrimental 
to  the  actress  than  a  discovery  of  the  real  purpose  of  her  going  to  Guilca. 
In   this   I   believe   they  judged  correctly. 

After  a  litde  excitement  the  matter  was  forgotten,  and  Peg  Woffington 
continued  to  enjoy  the  undiminished  favor  of  her  audiences,  and  McSwiney's 
legacy.  Mrs.  Bland  left  Smock  Alley  before  the  second  season  began,  and 
Woffington  remained  not  only  without  a  rival,  but  really  without  adequate 
support.      However  she  filled  the  house   at  every  performance. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  second  year  of  her  engagement  Sheridan 
voluntarily  doubled  her  salary.     He  had  profited  so  handsomely  by  her  services 

("7) 


PERIOD  XII. 

during  the  past  season  that  he  could  very  well  afford  to  pay  her  eight  hundred 
pounds  a  year.  But  to  increase  the  original  sum  of  four  hundred  per  annum 
to  this  large  amount,  of  his  own  accord,  attests  not  only  the  manager's  generous 
nature  but  his  keen  perception  of  the  talent  and  attractiveness  of  his  star. 
With  so  fine  an  income,  which  was  further  increased  by  her  two  yearly  benefits, 
Woffington  could  now  indulge  her  hospitable  tastes  without  restraint,  and  she  did. 

Her  private  life  at  once  became  luxurious.  She  procured  a  handsome 
equipage  with  a  pair  of  powdered  footmen ;  and  devoted  much  of  her  income 
to  the  lavish  entertainment  of  her  friends.  This  was,  perhaps,  the  most  brilliant 
period  of  her  life.  Her  hospitality  was  reciprocated  in  a  generous  measure 
by  the   poetlings,   who   filled  the   public  prints  with  verses  in   her  praise. 

She  was  not,  perhaps,  received  at  the  Castle,  nor  were  receptions  given 
in  her  honor  by  the  leaders  of  society;  but  these  were  social  honors  the 
absence  of  which  fretted  Woffington  very  little.  During  the  whole  course 
of  her  life  she  had  never  sought  the  society  of  her  own.  sex.  Women,  she 
said,  talked  of  nothing  but  silks  and  scandal;  they  were  not  so  broadly  educated 
as  their  brothers,  and  could  bring  fewer  ideas  and  less  learning  into  a  con- 
versation. Besides,  strangers  of  their  own  sex  who  seek  the  acquaintance  of 
actresses  seldom  do  so  with  the  intention  of  honest  friendship.  This  Woffington 
knew  too  well ;  and  as  honesty  was  the  keynote  of  her  character,  she  naturally 
shunned  those  who  lacked  it.  Moreover,  her  associates  since  girlhood  had 
been  bright  wits  and  poets  and  statesmen ;  and  she  had  enjoyed  the  sparkle 
and  dignity  of  their  society  too  much  to  be  satisfied  by  the  tattle  and  gossip 
of  merely  fashionable    women. 

In  gathering  around  her  the  cleverest  men  of  the  capital  she  was  satisfied 
to  be  ignored  by  some  of  its  women.  The  graceful  ease  of  her  manner,  the 
wit  of  which  she  was  the  acknowledged  mistress,  and  the  hospitable  way  in 
which  she  entertained,  immediately  secured  for  Woffington  in  Dublin  the 
position   that  she   had  occupied  in   London. 

"To  Miss  Woffington's  honor  be  it  ever  remembered,"  writes  Hitchcock, 
"that  whilst  thus  in  the  zenith  of  her  glory,  courted  and  caressed  by  all 
ranks  and  degrees,  she  made   no  alteration  in   her  behavior,  but  remained  the 

(118) 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 

same  gay,  affable,  obliging,  good-natured  woman  to  every  one  around  her. 
Not  the  lowest  performer  in  the  theatre  did  she  refuse  performing  for  at 
benefits.  Such  traits  of  character  must  endear  Woffington's  memory  to  every 
lover  of  the   drama." 

An  amiable  instance  of  Peg  Woffington's  natural  kindness  of  heart  is 
related  of  her  stay  in  Dublin  at  this  period.  The  maid,  who  had  waited  upon 
her  faithfully  for  several  years,  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  young  trades- 
man of  the  city.  It  is  related  that  one  morning  before  the  wedding,  Woffington 
called  the  girl  into  her  chamber  and  said :  "  You  have  served  me  with  integrity, 
and  it  is  time  for  me  to  make  you  some  recompense.  You  are  now  going  to 
be  married  to  an  honest  man,  and  since  he  is  of  some  substance  it  is  not  fit 
that  you  should  go  to  him  penniless.  Here  is  something  to  begin  your  new 
score  with,  and  I  want  you  to  accept  it  as  a  token  of  my  regard."  So 
saying,  she  placed  a  purse  containing  one  hundred  guineas  into  the  maid's 
hand,   and  dismissed  her  with   many  wishes  of  happiness. 

It  was  at  this  period  of  Peg  Woffington's  career,  also,  that  the  oft- 
repeated   Gunning  incident  occurred. 

Maria  and  Elizabeth  Gunning  were  Dublin  beauties  of  good  family 
and  connections,  but  poor  as  Poverty.  Their  mother  and  old  Mrs.  Woffington, 
I  presume,  had  become  cronies.  However,  on  one  occasion  there  was  to  be 
a  grand  vice-regal  reception  at  the  Castle,  and  these  young  ladies  had  invita- 
tions to  attend,  but  no  dresses  fit  to  wear  on  such  an  occasion.  At  her 
mother's  solicitation  Peg  Woffington  came  to  the  rescue.  She  loaned  the 
beauties  a  couple  of  her  stage  court  costumes,  and  thus  arrayed  in  the  finery  of 
the  theatre,  they  attended  the  ball,  and,  like  Caesar:  came — saw — and  conquered. 
It  must  have  amused  Woffington  to  think  that  if  she  was  not  asked  to  the 
Castle,   her  dresses   went  and   helped   to  paralyze   the   entire  assembly. 

Later  Mrs.  Gunning  and  her  beautiful  daughters  crossed  over  to  London, 
where  they  became  the  sensation  of  the  day,  and  of  them  Horace^  Walpole  wrote: 

"There  are  two  Irish  girls  of  no  fortune,  who  are  declared  the  hand- 
somest women  alive.  I  think  there  being  two  so  handsome,  and  both  such 
perfect  figures,  is  their  chief  excellence,  for  singly  I  have  seen  much  handsomer 

("9) 


PERIOD  XII. 

figures  than  either;  however,  they  can't  walk  in  the  park,  or  go  to  Vauxhall, 
but  such  mobs   follow  them   that  they  are   therefore   driven  away." 

Both  girls  married  into  the  British  aristocracy.  Maria  Gunning  became 
the  Countess  of  Coventry  and  Elizabeth  Gunning  could  be  afterwards  addressed 
as  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton  !  though  she  married  the  Duke  in  such  haste 
that  it  is  said  the  couple  were  forced  to  use  a  bed-curtain  ring,  instead  of 
the  commonly  accepted  circlet  of  gold.  And  thus  Peggy  may  be  said  to  have 
furnished  the   first  outfit  for  a  couple  of  the  peeresses   of  England.* 

There  is  in  the  British  Museum  the  original  of  a  curious  old  broadside 
or  tract  which  was  printed  in  Dublin  about  this  time.  The  name  of  the  author 
is  not  known.  But  I  have  thought  it  of  sufficient  worth  to  give  it  in  these 
pages,  wherein  I  have  endeavored  to  gatner  everything  relating  to  Woffington 
that  might  give  variety  and  interest  to  the  matter — which,  I  fear,  has  received 
no  other  advantage  from  the  present  writer.f      The  verses  are  called: 

*  These  marriages  of  the  beautiful  Gunning  girls  were  the  great  society  topics  of  1752. 
Maria  married  the  Earl  of  Coventry,  and  Elizabeth  took  for  her  first  husband,  on  St. 
Valentine's  Day,  1752,  the  sixth  Duke  of  Hamilton.  The  elder  sister  was  eighteen,  the 
younger  seventeen,  when  these  marriages  took  place.  The  beauty  and  the  luck  of  the  Gun- 
nings was  the  theme  of  conversation  in  coffee-room  and  drawing-room.  Politics  were  only 
a  bad  second  in  public  estimation,  for  they  outranked  in  the  gossip  of  the  day  even  Miss 
Jeffries  and  Miss  Blandy,  two  murderesses,  who  were  hanged  at  Newgate  that  same  year. 
"  The  general  attention"  says  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  " is  divided  between  the  two  young 
ladies  who  were  married  and  tlie  two  young  ladies  who  were  hanged." 

Notwithstanding  her  exceeding  beauty,  Maria  Gunning,  Countess  of  Coventry,  was 
accustomed  to  use  cosmetics  to  such  an  extent  that  she  seriously  affected  her  health  thereby. 
In  1752,  the  year  in  w/iich  she  was  married,  and  when  the  "  Gunninghiad"  was  at  its 
height,  she  had  already  had  the  seeds  of  disease  sown  in  her  constitution  by  this  most 
pernicious  habit.  In  17JP  she  died  suddenly  of  rapid  consumption  and  paralysis.  She 
was  the  elder  and  more  beautiful  of  the  two  sisters,  and  the  very  year  she  died  her  por- 
trait was  painted  by   Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

Elizabeth  Gunning,  Duchess  of  Hamilton  {who  also  had  her  portrait  painted  by  Sir 
Joshua),  took  for  her  second  husband  Colonel  John  Campbell,  Lord  Lome,  afterwards  fifth 
Duke  of  Argyll. — Illustrious  Irishwomen. 

\For  much  laborious  research  and  the  collection  of  data  for  this  work  I  am  indebted 
to  Miss  Jean  Gordon  and  to  Mr.  Hillary  Bell,  and  I  take  occasion  in  the  present  note  to 
thank  them  for  their  very  valuable  assistance. 


(120) 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 
THE    CONTEST    DECIDED. 

ADDRESSED    TO    MRS.    WOFFINGTON. 

The   Muses  having  lately  met 

To  settle  their  poetic  State; 

The  Sock  and  Buskin   'gan  to  spar 

(For  Femiles  still  were  fond  of  War) 

And  of  each  other  Jealous  grown, 

Resolved  to  pull  each  other  down! 

Yet  all,  the   Motive,  must  commend, 

'Twas  which  was  Virtue's  better  Friend, 

Whose  scholars  too  could  represent 

Best  what  the  Muse  and  Poet  meant. 

Ela'e  with   Hope  they  take  the  field, 

And  armed  with   Reason  scorn  to  yield. 

As   conscious   of  superior  worth 

First  stepp'd  the   Buskin'd   Heroine  forth; 

Her  solemn  Air  &  sable  Train 

Were   Prologue  to  her  Pompous  Strain. 

'Tis  mine,   she  said,  in   Courts  to  shine, 
By   me  the   Hero   grows   divine; 
Tis  mine  to  crush  the  haughty  Great, 
And  raise  the  modest  to  his  Seat; 
To   strike   the   guilty   Mind   with   Fear, 
And  from  the   Harden'd  force  a  Tear; 
To  raise,  depress,  or  melt  the   Heart 
(Mine — Sheridan's  and   Garrick's  art), 
With  heroes   I  adorn  the  stage, 
And  into  virtue  charm  the  age. 

Here  interposed  the   Comic  Maid: 
But  still  your  subjects  are  the  Dead, 
You   show  what  former  worlds  have  been, 
In  me  the  present  Age  is  seen; 
Like  me,  if  you  would  banish  Crimes, 
Hold  forth  a  Mirror  to  the  Times. 
Besides,  how  little  were  your"  Power, 
Was   Folly  left  to  reign  secure? 
For  Folks  are  now  not  over  nice, 
But  soon  from   Folly  step  to  Vice; 
To   mend   Mankind   you    must   begin, 
And  teach  them  first  to    fly  from  Sin. 

16  (121) 


PERIOD  XII. 

If  Pritchard  or  if  Clive  deride, 

Pert  Dulness  drops  its  saucy  Pride ; 

And .  those  who  laugh  at  Reason's   Rule, 

Smart  at   my   strokes   of  Ridicule, 

For  Fools  ill   brook  the  name  of  Fool. 

Thus  quarrel'd  they  like    Man  and  Wife, 

But  thus  Apollo  ends   the  Strife: 

Rivals   no   more   contend   for   Fame — 

By   differ'n't  means   your   End's   the   same, 

And   lest  these   Players   should   divide   You, 

Let   my  Advice   and   Wisdom  guide  You; 

You  two  against  them  all  combine, 

And   ev'ry   Pow'r   to   one   assign, 

Blend   Spirit,   Softness,   Taste,   and   Sense, 

And  from   a   finish'd   Excellence — 

Be   this  the   Darling   of  your   Care, 

And  make  your  Choice  among  the  Fair. 

They  strait  agreed,  but  left  the   Choice 
To  rest  upon  his   Godship's  Voice, 
Who,  glad  to  bid  the  Quarrel  cease, 
Named  WOFFINGTON,  and  all  was   Peace. 

Another  poet  contributed  the  following  to  one  of  the  Dublin  papers, 
and  it  was  introduced  by  the  editor  as  "written  by  a  gentleman  of  some 
eminence  in   the   literary   world." 

"ON    MISS    WOFFINGTON. 

Whilst  you,   the  pride   and   glory   of  the  stage, 
At  once  improve  and  please  the  giddy  age: 
The  well  played   character   our  wonder  draws, 
And   still   attention   marks   with   due  applause. 
Explore  the   theatres — how  very   few 
Express  the  passions   which   the  poet   drew! 
Mad  with   the   love   of  praise   the   actor  tries, 
Like   Bayes  to   elevate   and  to   surprize, 
And  women  oft,  whose  beauty  charms  alone, 
Neglect  the   poet's   part  to   play  their   own. 
But  you   each   character  so   close  pursue 
We   think   the   author   copied   it   from   you. 

(122) 


FROM  TEDDINGTON  TO  SMOCK  ALLEY. 

True  judge   of  nature!    justly  you   despise 
To   practice   tricks  by  which   so   many   rise. 
Hail   then!     in   whom   united   we  behold 
Whatever  graced   the   theatres   of  old: 
A   form   above   description,   and   a   mind 
By  judgment  temper'd   and   by   wit   refin'd. 
Cut   off  in   beauty's   prime   when   Oldfield   died, 
The   Muses   wept  and   threw   their   harps   aside — 
But   now   resume   the   lyre,   amazed  to  see 
Her   greatest   beauties   far   outdone  by  thee." 

The  kindly  esteem  of  the  Dublin  public  evinced  by  these  methods, 
and  emphasized  in  this  way  toward  its  favorite  actress,  made  Woffington's 
engagement  at  the  Smock  Alley  Theatre  so  very  advantageous  to  her,  in 
many  ways,  that  she  appears  at  one  time  to  have  felt  satisfied  to  end  her 
career  in   the  city   in   which   it  was  begun. 

There  seemed  no  possibility  of  her  popularity  waning  in  Dublin,  and 
Peggy  might  have  continued  under  Sheridan's  management  for  an  indefinite 
number  of  years  had  she  confined  her  attention  to  matters  within  her  own 
theatric  sphere.  But  she  suffered  herself  to  become  prominent  in  a  position 
which,  although  apparently  social  in  its  character,  involved  her  in  the  unfor- 
tunate disputes  which  national  feeling  in  Ireland  has  so  often  engendered. 
In  an  evil  hour  she  was  elected  President  of  the  Beefsteak  Club,  and  through 
that  distinction  not  only  did  Margaret  Wofftngton  come  to  grief  herself,  but 
her   manager  and   his   theatre  were   likewise   involved   in   ultimate   destruction. 


(123) 


PERIOD  XIII. 


FROM   CLUBS   TO   FIREBRANDS. 


THE  entire  episode  of  the  Beefsteak  Club  and  Woffington's  connection 
with  it— being  the  one  semi-political  incident  of  her  career — must 
have  a  separate  chapter. 

The  Duke  of  Dorset,  in  the  years  175 1-3,  was  Lord-Lieutenant  of 
Ireland.  His  intimate  companion  and  trusted  counsellor  was  Lord  Sackville, 
afterwards  Lord  Germaine.  These  gentlemen  loved  a  joke  and  valued  an 
epigram  more  than  they  relished  serious  government.  From  the  chronicles  of 
the  time,  it  appears  that  the  Duke  and  his  merry  Court  spent  more  hours  in 
the  pleasures  of  good  company,  than  in  managing  the  affairs  of  the  country 
over  which  they   ruled. 

Sheridan's  theatre  was  then  the  resort  of  people  of  taste  and  refine- 
ment, and  the  home  of  genius  and  sprightly  humor.  To  its  performances 
his  Grace  of  Dorset  extended  constant  patronage.  He  gave  his  friendship  to 
Mr.  Sheridan,  who  was  a  man  of  broad  education  and  fitted  to  shine  in  the 
most  polished  circles.  Woffington  was  also  a  great  favorite  of  the  Duke. 
Her  graceful  wit  and  exceptional  and  expressive  beauty  completed  the  amiable 
impression  which  had  been  formed  in  his  Grace's  mind  by  the  power  of  her 
acting.  At  that  period  the  approval  of  the  Castle  was  of  material  benefit  to 
the  theatre.  The  fashion  being  set  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  the  cream  of 
Irish  Society  flowed  into  Smock  Alley.  Sheridan  was  fully  conscious  of  the 
value  of  this  vice-regal  patronage  for  his  house,  and  decided  upon  what  he 
thought  was  an  astute  plan  to  gain   it  still   further. 

("4) 


JAS.    R.   AMSDtLL,     I  ti 


WOFFIWGTON  IN  HER  PRTME. 


*  ....... 

►    •  ••••*••• 

*  .  .      »   •*  •  •      • 

'♦*  ••       ••••• 


FROM  CLUBS   TO  FIREBRANDS. 

It  had  been  sometime  his  custom,  in  imitation  of  a  practice  much  in 
vogue  among  the  managers  of  the  English  theatres,  to  give  a  weekly  dinner 
to  a  few  intimates  (selected  from  among  the  leading  members  of  the  performing 
company,  as  well  as  from  their  strongest  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the 
foot-lights),  at  which  the  bills  for  the  ensuing  week  were  discussed  and  the 
casts  settled.  There  were  seldom  over  half  a  dozen  at  such  gatherings, 
however,  and  in  the  earlier  and  original  Saturday  night  suppers  which  Rich 
of  Covent  Garden  instituted,  but  two  or  three  of  his  cronies  were  ever  invited. 
Mr.  Sheridan  resolved,  as  a  politic  move,  to  make  a  departure  from  their  limited 
character.  He  fitted  up  a  large  dining-hall  in  his  house  in  Dorset  Street, 
adjoining  the  theatre,  and  served  a  luxurious  dinner  every  Saturday  night,  to 
which  were  invited  in  alternate  couples  his  leading  actors,  and  in  larger 
numbers  the  greater  patrons  of  his  play-house.  Smock  Alley  Theatre  was 
at  this  time  in  such  excellent  reputation  that  the  Duke  of  Dorset  and  his 
friends  were  glad  to  receive  and  accept  an  invitation  to  dine  at  Sheridan's 
Saturday  table.  The  name  of  The  Beefsteak  Club  was  given  to  this  social 
affair,  and  as  the  dishes  were  always  elaborate  and  the  company  of  the  best,  it 
speedily  became  quite  the  desirable  event  of  one's  life  to  be  counted  among 
the  elect,  at  least  once  in  the  season.  Sheridan's  idea  was  perhaps  a  clever 
one.  It  has  been  followed  up  by  dinner-giving  managers  and  convivial  theatrical 
"stars"   in  our  own   time  with  even  greater  notoriety. 

Peg  Woffington  was  the  only  woman  admitted  to  these  famous  dinners, 
and  so  desirable  did  her  company  become,  that  in  1753  she  was  unanimously 
elected  President  of  the  Club.  With  so  beautiful  and  witty  a  governor  and 
with  such  sumptuous  repasts,  the  Beefsteak  Club  soon  became  an  important  and 
enviable  institution.  Matters  of  Church  and  State  were  in  time  debated  at 
table,  and  the  affairs  of  Ireland  came  to  be  considered  primarily  in  Dorset 
Street  rather  than   in   the  Castle. 

Over  this  dazzling  assemblage  of  the  gods  and  Muses,  over  the 
wits,  the  poets,  the  dramatists,  the  artists,  authors,  statesmen  and  courtiers  of 
the  Island,  Peg  Woffington  presided  with  an  ease  and  tact  that  were  not 
only  most   agreeable  to  the   company  but  honorable  to   herself.     As   the  ruling 

(125) 


PERIOD  XIII. 

officer  of  so  many  brilliant  and  laughter-loving  people,  she  justified  their  choice 
by  a   poetical   appeal   from   the    Chair  which   she   addressed, 

TO    HIS    GRACE    THE    LORD-LIEUTENANT    OF    IRELAND,    &c,    &c, 
As  the 

HUMBLE    PETITION    OF    MARGARET    WOFFINGTON,    SPINSTER. 

May  it  please  your  Grace,  with  all   submission, 
I   humbly   offer   my  petition: 
Let  others   with   as   small   pretensions 
Teaze  you   for  places   and   for   pensions, 
I   scorn  a  pension   or  a  place, 
My  whole  design's  upon  your   Grace. 
The   form   of  my  petition's   this — 
I   claim,   my   lord,   an   annual   kiss — 
A   kiss   by  sacred   custom   due 
To   me   and  to    be   paid   by  you. 
But   lest  you   entertain   a   doubt, 
I'll   make   my   title   clearly   out. 
It   was,   as   near  as    I    can   fix, 
The   fourth   of  April,   'forty-six — 
(With  joy   I    recollect  the   day) 
As   I   was   dressing   for  the   play, 
In    stept  your   Grace,   and   at  your   back 
Appeared   my   trusty   guardian   MAC ;  * 
A   sudden   tremor   shook    my   frame — 
Lord!    how  my  color   went  and   came. 
At   length,   to   cut    my   story   short, 
You    kiss'd   me,   sir,   heav'n   bless   you    for't, 
The   magic   touch   my   spirits   drew 
Up   to   my   lips,   and   out  they   flew, 
Such   pain   and   pleasure   mixed,   I   vow, 
I   felt  all   o'er,   I   don't  know  how. 
The  secret,  when  your  Grace  withdrew, 
Like   lightning   to   the   greenroom   flew, 
And   plunged   the   women   into   spleen, 
The   men   receiv'd   me   for   their  queen, 
And   from  that   moment  swore   allegiance- 
Nay,   RICH   himself  was  all  obedience. 
Since  that  your  Grace  has  never  yet 
Refused  to  pay  the  annual   debt. 

*  Owen   McSwiney. 

(126) 


FROM  CLUBS   TO  FIREBRANDS. 

To  prove  these  facts,   if  you  will  have  It, 

Old   MAC  will  make  an  affidavit: 

If  MAC'S   rejected   as   a   fibber, 

I   must  appeal  to   COLLEY  CIBBER. 

By   good   advice   I   hither  came 

To   keep   up   my    continual    claim. 

The   duty's   not   confin'd   to   place, 

But  everywhere  affects  your   Grace, 

Which   being   personal    on   you 

No   deputy,   my   lord,   can    do. 

But  hold!    say  some,   his  situation 

Is   chang'd.      Consider  his  high   station. 

Can   station   or  can   titles   add 

To   DORSET  more  than   DORSET  had? 

Let   others   void   of  native   grace, 

Detive   faint   honors   from   a  place. 

His   greatness  to   himself  he  owes 

Nor   borrows   lustre    but   bestows 

That's  true,  but  still  you  answer,  wide, 

How   can  he  lay  his   state  aside? 

Then   think   betimes,   can   your  weak   sight 

Support   that   sudden   burst   of  light? 

Will  you   not  sicken  as  you   gaze 

Nay,   haply  perish   in   the   blaze — 

Remember  SEMELE  who  dy'd 

A   fatal   victim   to   her   pride. 

Glorious  example !    how   it  fires  me ! 

I  burn  and  the  whole   God  inspires  me — 

My   bosom    is  tc    fear   a   stranger, 

The  prize  is  more  enhanced  by  danger! 

It  is  not  written  in  the  minutes  of  the  Beefsteak  Club  whether  his 
Grace  yielded   to   his   fair  petitioner,  but  it   is   extremely  probable   that  he  did. 

The  Club  continued  to  have  the  high  approval  of  the  wits  and  beaux 
who  attended  its  dinners,  but  it  soon  fell  into  disfavor  with  those  who  had 
neither  coats  to  their  backs  nor  food  for  their  stomachs.  Mr.  Sheridan, 
being  the  projector  of  the  Club,  and  sustaining  it  at  his  own  expense, 
became  soon  the  chief  object  of  popular  discontent.  And  then  the  fickle 
populace  was  irritated  by  the  conduct  of  Woffington,  who,  it  was  argued, 
having  sprung   from  their  own   streets,  had   no   right  to  make   merry  with   the 

(127) 


PERIOD  XIII. 

Saxon  oppressor,  while  her  brothers  and  sisters  in  all  parts  ot  Ireland  lacked 
the  common  necessaries  of  existence.  Party-feeling  ran  so  high  that  threats 
began   to   be   made   by  the   populace  against  Sheridan  and  his   theatre. 

The  manager,  having  the  Court  on  his  side,  laughed  at  these  mutterings. 

In  January,  1754,  he  rehearsed  the  tragedy  of  "Mahomet"  and  announced 
an  early  evening  for  its  production.  The  selection  of  this  drama  was  an 
untimely  one.  It  contained  many  passages  that  were  likely  to  inflame  the  anger 
of  the  mob,  already  irritated  enough.  Sheridan  received  warning  that  the  per- 
formance of  this  play  would  lead  to  the  gravest  consequences,  but  he  neglected 
the  counsel   of  his  wiser  friends  and  produced  the  piece  at  the  promised  time. 

In  this  action  Mr.  Sheridan  does  not  appear  to  have  been  actuated  by 
any  considerations  of  party  spirit.  "  Mahomet "  had  been  selected  for  production 
long  before  popular  discontent  had  attained  its  present  importance.  He  was 
simply  following  the  programme  of  plays  that  had  been  laid  out  for  his  theatre, 
and  he  had  received  enough  tokens  of  esteem  from  the  public  to  tempt  him  into 
a  belief  that  nodiing  further  than  a  protest  would  be  raised  by  the  performance. 

In  this  conclusion  the  manager  was  incorrect.  One  can  never  tell  what 
spark  will  light  the  worst  passions  of  a  mob,  and  especially  a  political  mob. 
The  Dublin  crowd  had  no  valid  grievance  against  Sheridan.  For  years 
the  manager  of  Smock  Alley  had  been  the  most  popular  person  in  the  city. 
But  his  close  connection  with  the  Casde,  and  the  entertainments  he  gave  at 
the  Beefsteak  Club  to  the  Duke  and  his  satellites,  was  worked  up  into  a 
grave  offence  in  the  minds  of  the  disaffected.  Sheridan  was  warned  of  the 
gathering  cloud,  but  did  not  realize  that  it  presaged  so  great  a  storm.  He 
resolutely  produced  the  objectionable  play  at  the  advertised  time,  Saturday, 
February  2d,  1754,  and  acted  the  principal  role  of  Taphna,  with  Peg  Wof-. 
fington  as  Palmira,  Mr.  Digges  as  Alcanar,  Mr.  Lowden  (who  afterwards 
became  the  lessee  of  Smock  Alley)  as  Mahomet;  and  a  cast  of  very  fair 
merit  completed   the   bill. 

Smock  Alley  Theatre  was  filled  that  night  with  such  a  crowd  of  people 
as  it  had  seldom  held  before.  The  pit,  the  boxes,  the  galleries  and  aisles 
were   packed  to   their   uttermost,   and    Dorset  Street  was   thronged  with  those 

(128) 


FROM  CLUBS   TO  FIREBRANDS. 

who  could  not  gain  standing-room  inside  the  theatre.  Folks  of  every  con- 
dition of  life  were  there.  The  masses  of  Dublin  looked  down  grimly  from 
the  galleries  on  the  Duke  and  his  little  coterie:  on  the  fashionable  ladies  and 
exquisites  of  society;  while  their  party-leaders  thronged  the  pit  and  waited 
to  give  the  signal  of  condemnation.  The  curtain  went  up  in  silence,  and  the 
performance  of  the  tragedy  began.  No  disturbance  occurred  until  Digges 
in   the  inferior   character  of  Alcanar  spoke   the   opening  lines  of  his   part: 

"  If  ye  powers   divine ! 
Ye  mark  the  movements   of  this  nether  world 
And  bring  them  to  account,   crush,   crush  those  vipers, 
Who,  singled  out  by  the  community 
To   guard   their   rights,   shall   for   a   grasp   of  ore 
Or  paltry  office,   sell   them  to  the  foe" 

This  was  marked  as  the  cue  for  action.  Alcanar  had  no  sooner  ended 
this  speech  than  the  house  was  filled  with  uproar.  Stamping,  cat-calls,  whisding, 
thundering  applause  and  shouts  of  "  Bravo ! "  and  "  Encore ! "  rewarded  the 
effort  of  the  actor.  Mr.  Digges  was  amazed  and  embarrassed.  His  character 
of  Alcanar  was  a  very  insignificant  part  in  the  drama,  and  had  never  been 
greeted  with  approval  before.  In  response  to  the  general  demand,  however,  he 
repeated  his  speech,  and  made  way  for  the  greater  players.  He  was  recalled  by 
a  renewal  of  the  enthusiastic  plaudits,  and  forced  again  and  again  to  repeat  his 
invocation.  Sheridan's  finest  flights  of'  oratory  and  admirable  acting  in  Taphna 
were  received  in  silence.  Peg  Woffington  endeavored  to  invest  the  part  of 
Palmira  with  more  grace  than  were  ever  before  shown  in  it.  Nothing  pleased, 
however,  and  the  audience  would  only  applaud  when  Digges  appeared.  The 
curtain  was   finally   rung   down   and   the   lights   turned  out. 

As  he  saw  that  this  had  been  made  a  party  business,  Sheridan  laid  the 
play  aside  for  a  month;  but  on  March  2d  it  was  again  announced  for  repre- 
sentation. The  day  before  it  was  to  be  acted  Sheridan  called  his  company  into 
the  green-room  and  commented  at  great  length  upon  the  unfortunate  occur- 
rences which  had  marred  the  previous  performance.  Digges  asked  to  know 
what   his   manager's   wishes   were  with   reference   to   his   part  on   the   next  per- 

17  (129) 


PEFIOD  XIII. 

formance.  Sheridan  answered  that  he  gave  no  directions,  but  left  him  free  to 
act  as  he  thought  proper.  Digges  then  said:  "Sir,  if  I  should  comply  with 
the  demands  of  the  audience,  and  repeat  the  speech,  as  I  did  before,  am  I 
to  incur  your  censure  for  doing  it?"  "Not  at  all,"  replied  the  manager,  "I 
leave  you  to  act  in  that  matter  as  you  think  proper  in  the  interest  of  all 
concerned." 

The  evening  of  the  second  performance  arrived,  and  the  theatre  was 
again  thronged  to  the  walls  by  a  crowd  whose  passions  were  inflamed  by 
what  they  considered  the  manager's  contempt  for  them,  in  withholding  the 
play  so  long  from  repetition.  The  speech  of  Alcanar  was  applauded  with  a 
vehemence  even  greater  than  that  of  the  previous  occasion.  Mr.  Digges  stood 
motionless  for  a  long  time  before  the  foot-lights  while  the  house  was  filled 
with  all  the  clamor  that  could  be  produced  by  an  angry  mass  of  people. 
At  length  he  made  a  signal,  by  the  uplitting  of  his  hand,  that  he  desired  to 
speak,  and  when  silence  was  accorded  him  he  said  with  manifest  confusion, 
"  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  comply  with  your  request  for  a  repeti- 
tion, but  I  have  private  reasons  for  begging  to  be  forgiven  *  *  :i:  You 
should   excuse   me  as   my   compliance   would    be   injurious   to   me." 

Upon  hearing  this  the  audience  immediately  called  out  as  vigorously  as 
before,     "Sheridan!"    "Sheridan!"    "Manager!"    "Manager!" 

Digges  quitted  the  stage  hurriedly,  and  the  uproar  still  continuing, 
Mr.  Sheridan,  who  stood  nervously  in  the  wings,  ordered  the  curtain  down 
and  sent  out  the  prompter  to  state  that  if  the  audience  would  permit  it  the 
play  would   be   concluded   in   a   satisfactory   manner. 

The  prompter's  words  were  drowned  in  an  increased  clamor  of  noises, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  withdraw  without  completing  his  commission.  The  cries 
for  "  Sheridan !  Sheridan ! "  were  kept  up  with  ever  increasing  fury.  But 
the  manager  was  so  terrified  by  the  fierce  -tones  of  the  audience  that  he 
believed  they  intended  to  wreak  personal  violence  on  him,  and  he  declined 
to  go  out.  His  sedan-chair  was  therefore  hastily  summoned,  he  threw  off  his 
stage  attire,  dressed  himself,  and  hurrying  to  his  conveyance  was  taken  home 
through  a  back   street. 

(130) 


FROM  CLUBS  TO  FIREBRANDS. 

The  tumult  in  the  theatre  growing  louder  every  minute,  Woffington 
offered  to  go  in  front  and  appeal  to  the  audience.  But  her  appearance 
only  added  fresh  fuel  to  the  flames  of  discord.  She  was  known  as  the 
President  of  the  Beefsteak  Club  and  a  prime  favorite  of  the  Duke.  On  her 
appearance  before  the  curtain  a  howl  of  derision  arose,  and  neither  her 
beauty,  her  sex  nor  her  pleading  gestures  could  gain  silence  from  the  enraged 
multitude.  She  retired  at  length  in  great  embarrassment,  and  Digges,  being 
the  apparent  favorite  of  the  audience,  came  forward  to  address  them.  He 
declared  that  Mr.  Sheridan  had  laid  him  under  no  injunction  not  to  repeat 
his  lines,  and  that  the  manager  could  not  on  that  account  have  incurred 
the   displeasure   of  his   patrons.      This   was   of  no   avail. 

The  cries  for  Sheridan  were  still  kept  up  vehemently.  Mr.  Digges 
assured  them  that  Sheridan  had  gone  home.  Upon  which  one  of  the  leaders 
in  the  pit  arose  and  stated  that,  having  waited  so  long  for  the  manager  to 
come  forth  and  answer  for  himself,  they  were  willing  to  wait  an  hour  longer, 
but  appear  he   must. 

A  messenger  was  despatched  from  the  green-room  to  Sheridan's  house 
with  this  message,  but  no  arguments  could  prevail  on  Sheridan,  now  thor- 
oughly demoralized,   to   return    to   the   theatre. 

The  audience  was  as  good  as  its  promise.  The  Duke  and  his  followers 
and  the  fashionable  people  slipped  away  secretly  during  the  turmoil,  but  all 
the  others   stayed   until   the   time   given    for  Sheridan's   appearance. 

At  the  end  of  the  hour  two  of  the  party-leaders  climbed  out  of  the 
pit  and  into  his  Grace's  box.  One  of  them  stood  up  in  view  of  the  audience 
and  cried  out:    "God  bless   his  Majesty   King  George,  with  three   huzzas." 

This  seems   to   have   been   the   pre-arranged   signal   for  action. 

In  a  moment  the   scene   had    changed   into   Pandemonium. 

Cheer  after  cheer  rang  through  the  house,  and  the  work  of  demolition 
was  begun.  The  curtain  was  pulled  down,  the  boxes  destroyed,  the  seats 
uprooted  and  broken,  and  the  scenery  dragged  from  its  recesses  and  broken 
into   splinters   and   the   canvases   torn    into   shreds. 

The  terrified  actors  fled  to  their  homes,  and  two  hours  later  there  came 

(130 


PERIOD  XIII. 

forth  from  the  ill-fated  house  a  throng  of  dust-covered,  disorderly  men,  leaving 
behind  them   the  desolated  ruins  of  the   famous   Smock  Alley  Theatre. 

The  rage  of  the  mob  was  fierce  while  it  continued,  but  its  fury  did  not 
last  long.  Having  punished  the  temerity  of  Mr.  Sheridan  in  this  summary 
manner,  it  was  willing  to  forgive  and  take  him  back  into  favor  again — 
after  learning  how  innocent  he  was  of  any  real  offence.  But  Sheridan 
sensibly  enough  desired  no  more  of  management.  He  declined  to  have  anything 
further  to  do  with  the  theatre,  and  surrendered  its  use,  after  it  had  been 
somewhat  restored  to   sightliness,  for  a  series  of  benefits  to  his  actors. 

What  remained  of  Smock  Alley  Theatre  was  re-opened  in  March,  1754, 
under  the  patronage  of  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  with  the  tragedy  of  "All  for  Love." 

The  other  actors  were  fearful  to  be  the  first  to  tempt  fate  again  after 
their  recent  experience  of  the  mob,  but  Woffington,  reckless  and  ever  confident, 
allowed  her  name  to  go  up  for  the  occasion,  and  it  was  denominated  her 
"  benefit  night."  The  result  proved  that  "  Be  bold — evermore  be  bold " 
was  her  adage,  and  that  the  fair  and  brave  Woffington  did  not  over- 
estimate her  influence  with  her  former  devotees,  the  public  at  large.  Peace 
was  conquered,  and  for  the  remainder  of  the  season,  which  was  entirely  devoted 
to  "benefits,"  she  acted,  as  Hitchcock  has  already  told  us,  for  twenty-four 
out  of  the   twenty-six  which   were  given. 

All  writers  who  have  commented  on  this  season's  work  give  the  fullest 
and  freest  praise  to  Woffington.  There  is  only  one  exception — Digges !  In 
a  pamphlet  full  of  amorous  letters  which  he  addressed  to  Mrs.  Sarah  Ward 
(afterward  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Siddons),  he  is  quite  bitter  in  his  references 
to  Mrs.  Woffington — warning  his  "dear  Sally"  against  her  wiles  and  machina- 
tions, her  envies  and  jealousies.  He  gives  no  reasons.  Probably  his  "benefit 
night"  was  one  of  the  two  for  which  she   did   not  act. 

The  following  sonorous  lines  were  written  by  an  enthusiastic  admirer 
upon  seeing  her  appear  during  this  period  in  the  characters  of  Androrriculie, 
Hermione  and  Lady   Townly,  and  were  printed  in   die   Gentleman's   Magazine: 

Fired  with  thy  praise  I   strike  the  .trembling  strings, 
Bold  is  the  flight  for  my  unpracticed  wings. 

(132) 


FROM  CLUBS   TO  FIREBRANDS. 

Cou'd   I  preserve  thy  beauties   in   my  lays 

And  copy  the  perfections  which   I   praise. 

How   wou'd   each   reader's   varying   visage   glow 

With    ruddy   mirth — now   fade   with   livid   woe! 

When  fair  Andromache  laments  the  fate 

Of  her  loved  lord   &  Asia's   ruined   state, 

Or  paints  her  terrors  while  the    flame  devours, 

Troy's   shattered  bulwarks,   &  her  trembling  towers — 

Big  with   uncommon  woes  the   scene  appears, 

And  the   whole   ruin  thunders  in   our  ears ; 

But  when   she  trembles    for  her  helpless  son, 

Her  fears  affect   us  and  become  our  own. 

Behold !    she   lays   the  tender  airs   aside, 

Quits  ease   for   state,   humility   for  pride; 

The   mien   majestic  Jove's  high   Queen  bestows, 

And    Phoebus   tunes   each   period   as   it   flows — 

T'is   then   Hermione  our  wonder  draws, 

And  arms   our  vengeance  in  her  beauty's  cause : 

Superior  to  her  wrongs,  her  soul  disdains 

Meanly  to   sue — but  like  a  Queen  complains; 

But  now  farewell  the  buskin   &  the  train 

See    Townly  brighten   in   the  comic  scene, 

There  elegance,  propriety   &  ease, 

Taste,  judgment,  spirit,  all   conspire  to  please. 

Bright  beauty's  power  th'   unhappy  gazers  prove, 

And  admiration   kindles   into  love. 

Attend,  ye  criticks,   every  action  scan, 

Weigh   all  her  words — then  censure  if  ye   can! 

Soon   after    the    re-opening    of   Smock    Alley  Theatre,    Dorset    resigned 

the    Lord-Lieutenantcy ;    but    before    his  departure    for     England    he    and    the 

Duchess  attended  the   theatre   in   state,  on  which  occasion  Wofnngton  delivered 

a  laudatory  epilogue  written  for  the  occasion,  of  which  a  single  couplet  will   be 

enough : 

Deck'd  he   goes,  with   honour's   fair  applause 
Crown'd  with  laurels   reap'd   in   virtue's  cause. 

That  Woffington  set  the  fashions  in  dress  during  her  stay  in  Dublin, 
as  she  had  done  in  London,  is  shown  time  and  again  by  those  who  have 
written   of  her,  and  in  the  Dublin  Gazette  of  1753  was   printed   the   following: 

(133) 


PERIOD   XIII. 

♦« VERSES   WROTE   EXTEMPORE 

last   Saturday   on    seeing 

A   LADY   WHO   US'D  TO   RAIL   AT   MRS.   WOFFINGTON 

dres't   in   imitation   of  her — 

Folly  at   Reason  takes   offence 

Yet  apes    the   garb   of  common   sense 

The    Name   of  Thought   her   peace  disturbs, 

Her   choice   prefers   the   dress  -of  Words. 

Tho    Mrs. ,   With   true   theatric   spirit 

Abuses    Peg's   Superior    Merit, 

Neglects   the   Mind   that   marks   her   fame — 

But   trims   her  Gown,   exact   the   same." 

Woffington  left  Dublin  at  the  end  of  May,  1754,  little  dreaming  that 
she  was   never  again   to   see   her   native   land. 

Victor,  in  partnership  with  Lowdon  (the  former  treasurer  under  Sheri- 
dan), became  part  lessee  of  Smock  Alley  the  following  season,  and  the  Duke 
of  Dorset,  wondering  why  the  proprietors  had  not  secured  Woffington  for 
their   start    in   management,  received   from  Victor   this    explanation    in   a   letter : 

"  When  I  waited  on  Mrs.  Woffington  to  take  my  leave  at  her  setting- 
Out  for  London,  I  told  her  I  thought  it  for  her  interest  as  well  as  ours  that 
she  should  be  engaged  the  next  winter  there.  She  was  greatly  disappointed 
at  not  receiving  proposals  from  me,  upon  which  I  told  her  she  would  find 
Lowdon  in  London,  and  if  it  was  her  desire  to  return,  whatever  terms  they 
agreed  on  should  have  my  hearty  concurrence.  They  met  in  consequence, 
but  as  she  expected  her  former  salary  of  ^800,  he  very  wisely  got  rid  of  the 
subject  as  fast  as  he  could.  No  man  has  a  higher  sense  of  her  merit  than 
I  have,  yet  that  great  salary  cannot  be  given,  even  to  her,  the  fourth  season, 
because    novelty    is    the    very    spirit    and    life    of    all    public    entertainments." 

But  what  was  Dublin's  loss  became  London's  gain-— and  Peg  Woffington 
returned  to  the  scene  of  her  first  great  triumphs  only  to  attain  still  greater 
ones. 

(M4) 


FROM    A    PAINTING   IN  THE   KENSINGTON   GALLERY. 


PERIOD  XIV. 


FROM  BELLAMY  TO  WILKINSON. 


NCE  again  Margaret  Woffington  comes  to  London  without  an  engage- 
ment; but  this  time  she  had  not  to  knock  eighteen  times  at  John 
Rich's  stage-door  and  beg  for  a  hearing.  The  tables  are  turned, 
and   Rich   seeks   her. 

She  was  living  then  in  York  Buildings,  but  retained  her  villa  at  Tedding- 
ton.  Spranger  Barry  had  gone  off  to  Ireland,  predicting  ruin  to  Rich  by. 
his  desertion.  But  never  were  truer  words  than  those  of  Wilkinson,  in  his 
comment  upon  this  all  too  common  "actor's  threat":  "Such  threats,"  says 
the  comprehensive  Tate,  who  had  been  both  actor  and  manager,  "are  weak  in 
the  extreme.  It  must  be  a  manager's  own  fault  if  he  is  ruined  by  the  loss  of 
any  performer  whatever." 

Although  George  Anne  Bellamy  was  still  retained  at  Covent  Garden 
this  season,  Rich  immediately  engaged  Mrs.  Woffington  at  her  Dublin  salary, 
and  she  made  her  re-appearance  in  London  on  the  21st  of  October,  1754,  as 
Marcia   in   the   "Nonjuror,"   with   Theophilus   Cibber  as   De   Wolf. 

A  great  house  gathered  upon  the  announcement  of  Mrs.  Woffington's 
name  for  this  occasion ;  and  the  outburst  of  applause  that  welcomed  her  return 
proved   the   actress   to   be   now  at   the   very  zenith  of  her  popularity. 

This  performance  was  followed  by  her  appearance  as  Sigismunda,  and  on 
the  28th  of  October  by  "The  Provoked  Husband,"  with  Lady  Tawnly  acted  by 
Woffington,  and  with  Thomas  Sheridan,  who  had  also   been  engaged  by  Rich,  in 

(135) 


PERIOD  XIV. 

the  character  of  Lord  Townly.  The  "  Merchant  of  Venice"  was  then  produced, 
Shylock  and  Portia  by  Sheridan  and  Woffington,  and  then  Woffington  played 
Wildair  for  a  week,  after  which  "The  Provoked  Husband"  was  revived  again 
by  command  of  the  new  King,  George  III,  who  desired  to  witness  Peg  Wof- 
fington  anew  as  Lady  Townly.  She  next  appeared  as  Lady  Macbeth  and 
Phadre,  and  after  that,  in  rapid  succession,  in  a  round  of  the  parts  in  which 
she  had  acquired  her  early  fame,  such  as  Lady  Betty,  Mrs.  Frail,  Zara,  Phyllis 
and  Millamant. 

This  was  the  year  also  of  her  first  performance  of  Jocasta,  in  which 
Mrs.  Bellamy  acted  Eurydice  with  her  and  was  so  overcome  with  terror 
inspired  by  Woffington's  acting,  that  she  was  carried  off  the  stage  in  a  state 
of  insensibility. 

The  season  closed  with  no  eventful  occurrence,  and  during  the  final 
nights  Mrs.  Woffington  appeared  as  Mrs.  Ford,  Jane  Shore,  Wildair  and 
I^dy  Macbeth — a  variety  of  parts  certainly,  and  not  equalled,  I  believe,  by 
any  actress  of  her  century.  Her  restoration  to  favor  with  the  public,  her 
power  to  draw  a  crowded  house  at  all  times,  and  the  popular  applause  she 
received  in   each   part,   testifies   to  her  merit  in   all   of  them. 

Garrick  and  Woodward,  Mrs.  Cibber,  Mrs.  Pritchard  and  Kitty  Clive 
were  at  Drury  Lane  this  season,  but  Margaret  Woffington  certainly  held  her 
own   against  all   rivals. 

Drury  Lane,  too,  was  now  the  scene  of  a  series  of  mob-riots  not  unlike 
those  which  Woffington  and  Sheridan  had  left  behind  them  in  Dublin.  Garrick 
had  brought  some  French  dancers  from  Paris,  and  introduced  them  in  a  Chinese 
spectacle.  National  prejudice  ran  high  just  at  this  time,  and  the  unfortunate 
foreigners  were  driven  off  the  stage,  the  theatre  was  very  much  damaged  by 
the   mob,   and   Garrick's   own   house   barely  escaped  destruction. 

During  the  second  year  of  her  return  to  Covent  Garden  Mrs.  Woffington 
played  Donna  Hypolita  in  "  She  Would  and  She  Wouldn't "  for  the  first 
time  in  London,  and  also  exchanged  Ophelia  in  "  Hamlet "  for  The  Queen, 
which  she  played  with  Spranger  Barry,  who,  having  recovered  his  equilibrium, 
had  returned  to  Rich  at  his  former  salary.     After  the  latter   performance   "  The 

(136) 


FROM  BELLAMY  TO    WILKINSON. 

Recruiting  Officer"  had  a  hearing.  Later  in  the  season  the  tragedy  of  "The 
Rival  Queens,"  with  Woffington  and  Bellamy  in  their  former  parts,  and  with 
Barry  as  Alexander,  was  revived  with  a  wealth  of  scenery,  and  drew  crowded 
houses  for  some  weeks.  Mrs.  Bellamy  must  have  become  much  subdued,  for 
we  have  no  accounts  of  a  repetition  of  such  unpleasantness  between  her  and 
Mrs.  Woffington  as  had  occurred  when  they  previously  played  the  Rival 
Queens.*  Early  in  the  new  year,  1756,  Peggy  played  Donna  Violante  in  "The 
Wonder"  for  the  first  time.  This,  too,  was  the  year  of  the  rival  "King  Lears," 
when   Garricl:  and   Barry  divided   the  town   into   factions: 

A  King — nay,   every  inch  a  King! 

Such   Barry  doth  appear. 
But  Garrick's  quite  a  different  thing: 

He's   every  inch  King  Lear! 

Foote  was  at  Covent  Garden  this  season,  and  so  was  Miss  Nossiter 
(who  afterward  died  of  a  broken  heart  when  Barry  deserted  her  and  married 
Mrs.  Dancer),  but  Foote  never  acted  in  any  play  with  Mrs.  Woffington ;  and 
Miss  Nossiter  was  in  the  cast  with  her  only  on  the  nights  that  Peggy  played 
her  perennial  part  of  Sylvia,  when    Barry  acted  Plume  and   Miss  Nossiter  Rose. 

The  remainder  of  the  season  passed  quietly.  Peg  Woffington's  imperious 
nature  had  softened  considerably  during  the  three  pleasant  years  of  her  stay 
among  her  hospitable  countrymen,  while  it  is  very  likely  that  many  sorrows 
through  her  love  affairs,  and  much  disappointment  had  tended  to  subdue  the 
obstreperous  Bellamy,  who  though  not  less  vain,  had  learned  to  make  her 
conceit  less  obtrusive.  There  are  no  records  of  any  quarrels  between  the 
rival   ladies   during  this  year. 

The  seasons  of  1754,  1755  and  1756  seem  to  have  been  rather  dull 
and  uneventful,  though  thoroughly  successful  in  all  respects.  Garrick  and  Rich 
made  no  especial  effort,  except  in  the  "Lear"  period,  to  rival  each  other  in 
the  attractions  of  their  opposing  houses. 

*  This  play  seems  to  have  had  a  bad  effect  very  frequently  upon  the  tempers  of  the 
ladies  who  acted  Roxana  and  Statira.  The  great  Mrs.  Barry  and  Mrs.  Boutell,  some  seventy 
or  eighty  years  before,  had  a  contest  over  «  veil  used  in  it,  and  Mrs.  Barry  employed  her  stage 
dagger  with  such  effect 'on  lur  rival  as  to  give  her  something  more  than  a  stage  stab. 

x8  (137) 


PERIOD  XIV. 

Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden  had  sunk  into  a  lethargy  due  to 
comfortable  patronage,  and  were  so  well  satisfied  with  the  audiences  which  they 
drew,  that  no  attempt  was  made  to  increase  them.  Tate  Wilkinson  f  states 
that  in  the  revival  of  "  Phaedra "  at  the  Covent  Garden  "  the  performers  and 
audiences  seemed  half  asleep,  and  the  candles  burned  dim,  unless  at  the 
following  passage,  which,  with  the  advantage  of  Mrs.  Woffington's  figure  and 
new  dress,  prepared   them    for   the   chase: 

'  Come !    let  us  hunt  the  stag  and  chase  the  foaming  boar. 
Come !    rouse  up  all  the  horrid  monsters  of  the  wood — 
For  there,  even  there  Hypolitus  will  guard  me.'" 

"After  which  passage,"  he  continues,  "all  parties  on  and  off  the  stage, 
as  if  by  mutual  consent,  unanimously  returned  to  their  evening's  nap." 

late  Wilkinson  seems  always  to  make  the  effort  to  write  impartially, 
but  here  and  there  leaks  out  his  resentment  of  Woffington's  antagonistic  treat- 
ment of  him. 

And  this   brings  us   to  Peg's   last  quarrel   on    the   stage. 

Wilkinson's  aptitude  at  mimicry  appears  to  have  been  at  the  bottom 
of  the  trouble.  Woffington's  peculiar  voice  was  easy  prey  to  such  apery, 
and  the  very  first  effort  of  Wilkinson's  boyish  study  had  been  to  "  take  off"  this 
great  favorite  of  the  stage.  Laugh  as  we  will  at  the  weakness  of  others  in 
taking  offence  at  being  publicly  burlesqued,  let  this  shaft  of  ridicule  be  turned 
upon  ourselves  and  see  how  quickly  we  should  resent  it.  It  is  a  man's  or 
woman's  personality,  either  of  voice  or  walk  or  gesture,  which  these  ready 
mimics  take  advantage  of  to  burlesque,  and  when  we  remember  that  this  very 
personality  is  perhaps  an  ineradicable  natural  trait,  that  it  is  interwoven  with 
the  genius  and  power  that  have  won  popularity  and  are  to  secure  fame  and 
fortune — when  we  also  reflect  that  ridicule  is  a  serious  weapon  to  play  with, 
and  often  kills  when  it  only  purposed  to  amuse — we  need  not  wonder  at  the 
actor,  and  especially  the  tragic  actor,  feeling  some  resentment  towards  those 
clever  clowns  who  may  destroy,  or  at  least  weaken,  by  their  imitations,  the 
respect  of  the   public   for  the   object  of  their  buffoonery. 


*  Wilkinson's  Memoirs,   Vol.  IV. 

(138) 


FROM  BELLAMY  TO    WILKINSON. 

In  his  memoir  of  his  own  life  Wilkinson  confesses  that  his  earliest 
and  greatest  success  (when  only  thirteen  years  old),  before  Dr.  Thackery,  the 
good  governor  of  Harrow,  was  a  take-off  of  Peg  Woffington  in  Lady  Tawnly. 
In  his  efforts  to  become  an  actor  he  was  much  aided  by  Mr.  Brooks  (the 
curate  in  his  father's  parish)  and  his  wife,  Mrs.  Brooks,  a  notable  authoress  of 
the  day,  who  listed  among  her  visitors  Quin,  Mrs.  Cholmondely  (Woffington's 
sister)    and   Woffington   herself. 

The  boy's  clever  imitations  had  at  this  time  become  talked  about,  and 
Mrs.  Cholmondely  and  her  sister  were  so  incensed  by  the  liberty  he  had 
taken  with  the  performance  of  Lady  Tawnly  that  by  no  effort  of  Mrs.  Brooks 
could  they  be  induced  to  patronize  or  encourage  Tate.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brooks 
frequently  took  young  Wilkinson  to  call  on  Mrs.  Woffington  at  her  residence 
in  the  York  Buildings,  off  the  Strand,  where  she  was  now  residing,  but  he 
was  invariably  treated  with  coldness  and  contempt.  Woffington  felt  as  much 
justifiable  repugnance  at  Tate  Wilkinson's  imitation  of  her,  as  Mr.  Irving  might 
reasonably   feel   at   Dixey's   caricature. 

Such  a  resentment  seems  natural.  The  more  an  audience  is  impressed 
by  the  personality  of  a  fine  actor,  the  more  likely  they  are  to  be  tricked 
into  a  laugh   at  the  bur'  sque  of  it 

Tate  Wilkinson's  impersonation  of  Mrs.  Woffington  was,  no  doubt,  free 
from  exaggeration  and  true  to  every  trick,  every  manner  and  every  inflection 
of  the  actress.  But  it  was  nevertheless  an  imitation,  and  being  so  it  could 
not  fail  to  create  considerable  amusement  wherever  he  presented  it.  It  was 
exceedingly  audacious  ("cheeky"  and  "fresh"  are  popular  current  terms  which 
might  be  used)  in  Tate  Wilkinson  to  seek  the  patronage  of  the  woman  after 
he  had  attempted  to  make  the  actress  ridiculous,  and  it  was  not  a  little 
sign  that  years  had  softened  the  imperious  Woffington's  temper  when  she 
suffered   his  presence  at  all. 

In  1756,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  encouraged  by  the  plaudits  of  his 
audiences  and  the  good  opinions  of  his  friends,  Tate  Wilkinson  made  an  effort 
to  go  on  the  stage.  He  waited  on  Mr.  Rich,  and  rehearsed  several  speeches 
from  Richard  III,  but  after  the  trial  Rich  told   him  plainly  that  he   never  could 


PERIOD  XIV. 

become  an  actor,  but  allowed  him  the  consolation  of  going  behind  the  scenes 
during  the  performances  at  Covent  Garden  and  of  mingling  with  the  players 
in  the  green-room.  Being  a  boy,  and  a  rather  forward  one  at  that,  Tate 
managed  to  make  friends  with  the  comedian  Shuter  (quite  rising  in  popularity 
at  that  time)  who  sympathized  with  and  encouraged  him  in  the  hope  that 
Mr.   Rich  would  eventually  give  him  a  position   in  Covent  Garden. 

An  affair  in  which  Tate  was  an  unfortunate  participant  soon  after  this, 
however,  destroyed  all  his  dreams  of  an  engagement  at  that  time,  and  fixed 
on   him  the  severe  and  lasting  displeasure  of  the  manager. 

In  his  Memoirs,  Wilkinson  relates  the  event  in  the  following  termS: 
"  The  total  overthrow  of  all  my  hopes  was  occasioned  by  Mrs.  Woffington.  The 
cause  was  as  follows:  One  day  my  old  friend  Captain  Forbes  had  invited  me 
to  dine  with  him  at  the  Bradford  Arms.  After  dinner  the  Captain  said:  'Tate, 
we  will  go  to  the  play.'  Being  jolly  with  the  bottle  I  assented,  and  when  we 
arrived  at  the  Covent  Garden  Theatre  I  could  not  prevail  on  him  to  sit  any- 
where but  in  the  stage-box.  He  was  in  full  guard-regimentals,  myself  by  no 
means  fit  to  appear  as  his  companion ;  but  he  persisted  and  led  the  way ; 
and  in  the  front  chairs  of  His  Majesty's  box  we  were  seated,  and  no  more 
strange  than  true,  the  lower  sides  exhibited  a  beggarly  account  of  empty  seats, 
and  only  a  few  persons  scattered  in  the  front  ones — not  an  extraordinary 
circumstance  to  relate  then  of  an  unfashionable  night  at  Covent  Garden. 
The  play  was  "The  Confederacy."  Being  in  such  a  conspicuous  position 
the  eyes  of  the  performers  were  instantaneously  directed  on  beholding  a  poor 
young  lad,  a  mere  dependent  (skulking  nightly  behind  the  curtain)  placed  in  a 
stage-box.  They  naturally  concluded  I  had  gained  admittance  by  an  order,  and 
taken  such  a  place  by  way  of  impudent  bravado,  the  which  deserved  chastise- 
ment. They  sent  and  spoke  to  Rich,  and  it  was  agreed  diat  Wilkinson 
should  be  instantly  ordered  from  his  improper  situation.  A  messenger  was 
sent  to  put  the  mandate  from  Mr.  Rich  in  full  force.  The  box-keeper 
came  to  me,  and  Captain  Forbes,  warm  with  his  wine  and  the  insult  offered 
to  his  friend,  soon  convinced  the  official  messenger  of  his  mistake.  But, 
unfortunately,    Mrs.   Woffington,    who    acted    Clarissa,    having    been    frequently 

(140) 


FROM  BELLAMY  TO    WILKINSON. 

told  that  I  was  remarkable  for  taking  her  off  (as  the  phrase  was  and  is), 
came  close  to  the  stage-box,  finishing  her  speech  with  such  a  sarcastic  sneer 
at  me  as  actually  made  me  draw  back.  My  unfortunate  star  sure  was  then 
predominant,  for  at  that  moment  a  woman  of  the  town  in  the  balcony  above 
where  I  was  seated  repeated  some  words  in  a  remarkably  shrill  tone,  which 
occasioned  a  general  laugh ;  *  like  electricity  it  caught  Mrs.  Woffington's  ears, 
whose  voice  was  far  from  being  enchanting;  on  perceiving  the  pipe-squeak  on 
her  right  hand,  and  being  conscious  of  the  insult  she  had  then  given  apparently 
to  me,  it  struck  her  comprehension  so  forcibly  that  she  immediately  concluded 
I  had  given  the  retort  upon  her  in  that  open  and  audacious  manner,  to  render 
her  acting  and  tone  ridiculous  to  the  audience,  as  returning  contempt  for  her 
devilish  sneer.  She  again  turned  and  darted  her  lovely  eyes  as  tho'  assisted 
by  the  Furies,  which  made  me  look  confounded  and  sheepish;  all  which  only 
served  to   confirm   my   condemnation. 

"When  the  scene  was  finished  and  she  had  reached  the  green-room, 
she  related  my  insolence  in  such  terms  as  rendered  me  a  subject  of  abuse, 
contempt  and  hatred  with  all  the  company;  but  of  that  circumstance  I  was 
quite  ignorant;  at  that  instant  I  had,  it  is  true,  observed  to  my  mortification 
Mrs.  Woffington's  angry  look — but  could  not  divine   the   real   cause. 

"The  noon  following  when  I  attended  Mr.  Rich's  levee  I  was  kept  waiting 
a  considerable  time,  but  as  that  was  and  is  the  too  common  fate  of  distressed 
dependents,   patience   was   my  friend. 

"At  last  Mrs.  Woffington  passed  through  the  room  where  I  was  thus 
humiliated,  and  without  a  word,  curtsy  or  bow  of  the  head,  proceeded  to  her 
sedan,  from  which,  however,  she  immediately  and  haughtily  returned,  and 
advancing  toward  me  with  queen-like  steps,  and  viewing  me  most  contempt- 
uously,  said : 

" '  Mr.  Wilkinson,  I  have  made  a  visit  this  morning  to  Mr.  Rich  to  insist 
on   his   not  giving   you    any   engagement  whatever — no,    not  one  of    the   most 

*  On  Woffingteu' s  side  and  by  those  of  her  friends  who  were  in  a  position  to  give  the 
evidence  of  their  eyes  and  ear'' — it  was  contended  that  Wilkinson  ftimself,  in  his  semi-intoxicated 
state,  uttered  the  cry. 

(HO 


PERIOD   XIV. 

menial  kind  in  the  theatre.  Merit  you  have  none,  charity  you  deserve  not, 
for  if  you  did  my  purse  should  give  you  a  dinner.  Your  impudence  to  me 
last  night,  where  you  had  with  such  assurance  placed  yourself,  is  one  proof 
of  your  ignorance,  added  to  that,  I  heard  you  echo  my  voice  when  I  was 
acting;  and  I  sincerely  hope,  in  whatever  barn  you  are  suffered  as  an  unworthy 
stroller,  you  will  fully  experience   the  same  contempt  you   dared  to  offer  me.' 

"With  a  flounce  and  enraged  features,  without  waiting  or  permitting 
me  to  reply,   she   darted  once   more  into   her  chair. 

"I  really  was  so  astonished,  frightened  and  bewildered  that  I  knew  not 
how  to  act  or  think,  but  was  relieved  from  longer  suspense  and  tedious  waiting 
by  a  message  from  Rich,  intimating  that  he  could  not  see  me  at  his  levee 
either  that  day  or  in  future,  or  listen  to  any  proposition  for  engagement 
whatever;  for  my  behavior  was  too  gross  and  rude  to  be  justified,  and  I 
must  immediately  depart;  but  the  person  added  that  I  might  continue  the 
liberty  of  the  scenes  during  the  season,  but  should  not  on  any  account  take 
the   freedom   to  speak   to   Mr.   Rich." 

This  unfortunate  affair  cast  a  blight  over  Tate  Wilkinson's  hopes  at 
Covent  Garden.  Having  thus  innocently — (as  he  puts  it — but  of  course  there 
are  two  sides  to  every  story) — incurred  Mrs.  Woffington's  resentment,  he 
was  forced  to  wait  for  time  to  soften  her  anger  and  dislike.  The  permission 
that  Mr.  Rich  had  granted  him  to  come  behind  the  scenes,  he  liberally  availed 
himself  of,   hoping  that  accident  would   restore  him   to   favor. 

Woffington  was  on  the  friendliest  terms  at  this  time  with  nearly  all 
of  the  members  of  the  company,  and  her  cause  was  naturally  espoused  against 
an  outside  person  who  had  such  a  disagreeable  trick  of  making  sport  of  those 
actors  whom   the   world  was  accustomed  to   esteem. 

Garrick  having  witnessed  the  imitations  of  young  Wilkinson,  offered  him 
an  engagement  to  support  Foote  in  a  preliminary  farce  in  which  his  special 
gift  of  mimicry  might  be  available.  When  Woffington  heard  of  Garrick's 
intention  to  present  an  entertainment  at  Drury  Lane  in  which  her  acting 
was  to   be  made  sport  of,  she  became,   very   naturally,   much   incensed. 

If   the  idea   had  ever  been    entertained    by  Garrick,  it  was   certainly  in 

(»4») 


FROM  BELLAMY  TO    WILKINSON. 

the  very  worst  taste,  sensitive  as  he  himself  had  ever  been  to  ridicule,  to 
thus  connive  at  the  burlesque  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  formerly  loved 
and  once  wished  to  marry.  As  soon  as  Woffington  heard  of  the  proposition 
she  consulted  with  Colonel  Caesar,  an  officer  of  the  Guards,  who  had  for 
some   time  •  been  one   of  her   most  devoted  admirers. 

Colonel  Caesar  waited  upon  Garrick  formally  and  entered  a  firm  protest 
against  any  travesty  of  Mrs.  Woffington  which  should  bring  ridicule  on  her  as 
an  actress.  He  affirmed  that  as  Mrs.  Woffington  was  soon  to  be  his  wife  any 
affront  shown  to  her  would  promptly  be  resented  by  him,  and  that  if  Mr. 
Garrick  permitted  Wilkinson  to  perform  any  imitation  of  the  lady  in  Drury 
Lane,  the  manager  must  answer  to  him  as  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier. 

It  is  stated  that  not  only  did  Garrick  hasten  to  acquiesce  in  this 
peremptory  command,  but  expressed  his  hearty  disapproval  of  any  form  of 
entertainment  which  could  injure  the  fame  of  so  beautiful  and  clever  an  actress. 

Foote  and  Wilkinson  were  summoned  and  directed  not  to  introduce 
into  their  farce  any  line,  speech  or  business  that  would  give  the  least  offence 
to  Mrs.  Woffington.  "This  I  subscribed  to  as  Mr.  Garrick  demanded,"  says 
Wilkinson  in  his  Memoirs,  "and  Mr.  Foote  became  my  bail.  *  *  *  For 
had  I"  been  in  Mrs.  Woffington' s  place,  I  think  I  might  and  should  too,  prob- 
ably,  have  acted   the   same  as   she   did." 

It  has  been  said  that  Peg  Woffington  died  a  spinster.  The  memorial 
tablet  in  the  litde  church  at  Teddington  perpetuates  this  supposition,  in  cold 
marble. 

But  if  we  may  put  any  trust  in  a  writer  in  the  European  Magazine 
(February,  1795),  and  the  later  "Mackliniana"  in  the  same  periodical  (May,  1800), 
both  being  endorsed  in  a  statement  that  I  find  in  certain  manuscript  pages 
in  possession  of  Mr.  McKee,  of  New  York,  which  are  attributed  to  Macklin  (and 
which  certainly  seem  to  be  in  his  handwriting),  Margaret  Woffington  was 
married,  shordy  after  the  Wilkinson  affair,  to  this  same  Colonel  Caesar.  But 
her  subsequent  actions  and  entirely  free  use  of  her  own  funds  (something 
not  at  that  time  permitted  to  a  married  woman)  goes  far  to  disprove  this 
assertion. 

(143) 


PERIOD   XIV. 

Walpole  says  that  Colonel  Caesar  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  Sir  Julius 
Caesar,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  in  the  reign  of  James  I,  adding,  as  he  noted 
the  above  Garrick  incident,  "I  shall  wind  up  this  letter  with  an  admirable  ban- 
mot.  Somebody  asked  me  at  the  play  the  other  nighc  what  was  become  of 
Mrs.  Woffington.  I  replied  she  was  taken  off  by  Colonel  Caesar.  Lord  Tyrawley 
said :  '  I  suppose  she  was  reduced  to  Aut  Ceesar  aut  Nullus.' "  * 

*  This  letter  of  Walpole 's  is  dated  November,  17^6.      Woffington  Iiad  not  left  the  stage 
then.     It  was  her  last  season  on  the  stage,  but  site  acted  repeatedly  up  to  April,  175J. 


(144) 


53 
O 
Eh 
CD 

O 


CD 
H 

fc 

Ph 

O 

Eh 

i— i 

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Eh 

ffi 
O 

P^ 

Eh 
CO 

H 


PERIOD  XV. 


FROM    LIFE    TO    DEATH. 


IT  Tr     ARGARET    WOFFINGTON    began     the    season    of    1756-7    as 
i  \i  \         Mrs.    Ford   in    Shakspere's     "  Merry    Wives,"    little    dreaming   of 
M  "^^      its  tragic   ending   for  her,    and    that  merciless   fate  would   never 

permit  her  to  finish   it. 

Although  only  in  her  thirty-eighth  year,  the  wear  and  tear  of  life  had 
begun  to  tell  upon  Peg  Woffington — and  yet  we  find  her  this  season  adding 
three  new  parts  to  her  repertory:  Celia  in  "The  Humorous  Lieutenant"  ot 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The  Queen  in  "Richard  III"  (when  Barry  made  his  first 
attempt  at  die  crook-back  tyrant),  and  finally  creating  the  character  of  luidy 
Randolph  in  the  Rev.  John  Home's  tragedy  of  "  Douglas, "  when,  on  the 
14th  of  March  (1757),  that  doleful  and  artificial  piece  was  acted  for  the  first 
time  on  the  London  stage.  Her  intellect  must  have  been  vigorous  to  the  last. 
She  also  acted  on  the  24th  of  the  month  Lothario  for  the  first  time  in  England. 

But  throughout  this  season  close  observers  noted,  in  spite  of  her 
undaunted  spirit,   a  flickering  of  the  old  time  fire. 

The  early  age  at  which  she  had  begun  her  life  in  the  theatre  (it 
might,  in  fact,  be  said  that  she  toddled  upon  it  from  the  very  cradle),  the 
assiduity  of  her  attention  to  duty,  and  the  effort  she  had  made  for  many 
years  to  preserve  her  station  in  an  exacting  social  circle,  and  at  the  same 
time   to   maintain   her  position   on   the  stage,   had   exhausted   her  strength. 

Her   face    commenced    to    lose  its  infinite  charm,  her  acting  seemed   to 

*9  (145) 


PERIOD  XV. 

lack  something  of  its  former  magnetic  force,  and  her  physical  power  grew 
weaker.  She,  however,  still  attended  to  her  duties  at  the  theatre  with  unremit- 
ting care,  and  was  generous  enough  to  offer  die  strength,  which  ought  to  have 
been  husbanded,  at  every  benefit  given  for  the  assistance  of  the  poorer  actors. 
It  is  an  excellent  testimony  to  the  charity  of  her  nature,  if  not  to  its  prudence, 
that  her  very  last  appearance  before  the  public  was  in  the  kindly  aid  of 
her  professional  brethren. 

On  Monday,  May  3d,  1757,  as  Rosalind  in  "As  You  Like  It,"  at  the 
Covent  Garden  Theatre,  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Anderson,  Mr.  Wigall  and 
Madame  Gondeau,   Peg  Woffington    made    her    last    appearance   on  the  stage. 

Tate  Wilkinson  had  evidently  made  his  peace  with  her ;  or,  at  least, 
she  had  forgiven  him  so  far  as  to  withdraw  her  opposition  to  his  engagement 
at  Covent  Garden,  for  he  was  this  season  a  ■  member  of  the  regular  company : 
a  final  and  most  lovely  token  of  her  forgiving  nature; — and  it  is  from  his 
pen  that  we  have  the  most  graphic  account  of  her  thrilling  and  tragic 
farewell  performance. 

Wilkinson  was  standing  near  the  wings  as  Mrs.  Woffington,  dressed  in 
the  character  of  Rosalind,  and  Mrs.  Vincent  in  that  of  Celia,  were  going  on  the 
stage  in  the  first  act.  Mrs.  Woffington  stopped  for  a  moment  to  exchange  a 
word  with  Wilkinson,  saying  that  she  was  glad  to  hear  of  his  success,  and  that 
there  was  no  doubt  of  his  gaining  a  good  engagement  next  season.  Tate  felt 
too  much  honored  by  her  notice  of  him  to  reply  in  becoming  terms.  He 
simply  bowed  his  acknowledgments,  and  stood  watching  the  great  actress  as 
her  unapproachable  performance  of  Rosalind  that  night  warmed  the  audience 
into   its  old-time  enthusiasm. 

Through  four  acts  of  the  play  Peg  Woffington  performed  with  her  usual 
spirit  and  liveliness.  But  before  going  on  in  the  fifth  she  complained  to 
Wilkinson  of  a  feeling  of  faintness. 

He  offered  her  the  assistance  of  his  arm,  which  she  accepted.  Coming 
off  the  stage,  she  again  said  that  she  was  too  ill  to  play,  and  was  fatigued 
by  the  quick  change  in  dress  which  Rosalind  has  to  make  before  her  final 
entrance. 

(146) 


FROM  LIFE  TO  DEATH. 

She  summoned  up  heroic  courage,  however,  and  went  on  again.  The 
play  was  over,  and  she  had  progressed  so  far  as  to  go  down  towards  the 
foot-lights  to   speak   its   charming  epilogue: 

"If  it  be  true  that  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  it  is  as  true  that  a  good  play  needs 
no  epilogue" — 

But  Woffington  did  not  finish  her  task.  As  her  quivering  lips  uttered 
their  last  sentence: 

"  If  I  were  among,  you,  I  would  kiss  as  many  of  you  as  had  beards  that  pleased 
me"— 

Her  nervous  force  gave  out:  her  voice  faltered,  she  trembled  and 
staggered  back  from  the  foot-lights;  for  a  thrilling  instant  she  rallied  again, 
and  then  endeavored  to  continue  the  lines;  but,  poor  girl!  her  light  had 
gone  out  forever. 

With  a  wail  of  agony  she  cried  out:  "Oh  God]  Oh  God!"  and  tottered 
helplessly  to  the  wings,  where  she  fell  into  her  attendant's  arms. 

The  vast  audience  was  awe-stricken.  For  a  full  minute  there  was  an 
impressive  silence  over  the  house.  Then  a  storm  of  applause  broke  out,  to 
call  back  again  the   queen   of  the   stage  to   her  accustomed  place. 

But  that  call  was   never  answered. 

The  public  had  beheld  for  the  last  time  its  lovely  favorite !  Peg 
Woffington  had  uttered  the  very  last  word  she  was  ever  to  speak  to  her 
devoted  admirers,  and  the  last  act  of  the  drama  of  a  life,  which  had  been 
devoted  unselfishly  to  the  harmless  entertainment  of  her  kind  and  the  honor 
of  the  stage:  that  life  which  had  known  shadow  and  sunshine — both  in  plenty: 
struggles  and  successes,  in  plenty  too:  that  life  so  full  of  alternate  disap- 
pointments and  triumph  : — of  sweet  and  bitter  mingled,  from  her  first  hour 
before  the  mimur  scene  until  her  last — ended,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  then 
and  there. 

The  curtain  fell  on  the  last  scene  of  Woffington's  artistic  career  that 
night. 

Loving  hands  bore  her  home,  and  for  several  days  her  life   was  despaired 

(H7) 


PERIOD  XV. 

of.  But  she  rallied  slightly  at  the  end  of  a  week.  The  news  of  this  partial 
restoration  to  health  spread  with  an  electric  thrill,  and  was  welcomed  by  every 
lover  of  the  drama.      It  occasioned  the   following  lines: 

TO    MRS.    WOFFINGTON, 

ON    HEARING    THAT   SHE    GREW    BETTER. 

Will   then  the  tyrant  loose  his  fang 

And  drop  the  cold  arrest, 
Shall  health   subdue  the  vital  pang, 

Shall   Rapture  warm  thy  breast? 

Shall   Wit  once  more  his  seat  ascend 

And   in   thy   converse   reign, 
Shall   Humour  on  his  throne  attend, 

Shall   Fancy  fill   his   train? 

Shall  Sense   once  more,  shall  Worth  be  seen 

To  charm  the  gay  and  wise; 
Shall  Charity  exalt  that   mien 

And  brighten   up  those  eyes? 

Let  prudes,   let   hypocrites   be   dumb 

And   drop   the   saintly   mask, 
Let   Want   to  thee   and   Anguish   come 

Receive  the  boon,   not  ask. 

How   copious   did  thy  bounty   flow 

When    on   the   bed   of  death, 
To   cheer  the   wailing   Widow's   woe, 

To  aid  the  Orphan's  breath. 

Let  Minden's  *   sad   remains  declare — 

O   give   it  breath   to   fame! 
Who   snatched   the   wretched   from   despair? — 

Engrave,   O  Time!    thy  name! 

The  grateful  stage  now  trims  anew 

Thy  blooming  wreath  with  pain, 
Thy  tempting  laurels  lifts  to  view, 

But  lifts,  she  fears,  in  vain. 

The  change  in  Peg  Womngton's  condition,  however,  was  but  a  temporary 

*  The  subscription  in  favor  of  the  widvws  and  orfilians  of  those  who  fell  in   the  Battle 
of  Minden  was  originated  and  materially  assisted  by  Margaret  Woffinglon. 

(148) 


FROM  LIFE  TO  DEATH. 

one.  The  seeds  of  an  internal  complaint  were  in  her  constitution.  She 
inherited  from  her  father  a  disrelish  for  doctors  and  physic,  and  had  disregarded 
symptoms   which   should  have   been   immediately  and  medically   treated.* 

For  nearly  three  years  after  her  last  appearance  at  Covent  Garden 
Margaret  Woffington  existed  as  a  mere  shadow,  and  lingered  in  retirement 
at  Teddington  with  a  good  friend  whom  she  seems  to  have  found  in  one 
Mrs.  Barrington,  the  wife  of  that  Barrington  who  had  played  Macheath  to 
her  Polly,  when  as  children  they  acted  together  in  Dublin.  But  she  steadily 
resisted  all   temptations   to   resume  her  former  position  on   the   stage. 

"I  will  never,"  she  is  reported  to  have  said  on  one  occasion,  previous 
to  her  illness,  "destroy  my  own  reputation  by  clinging  to  the  shadow  after 
the  substance  is  gone.  When  I  can  no  longer  bound  on  the  boards  with 
at  least  some  show  of  my  youthful  vigor,  and  when  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
public  begins  to  show  signs  of  decay,  that  will  be  the  last  appearance  of 
Margaret  Woffington." 

She   kept  her  word. 

During  the  quietude  of  this  period  in  her  life,  Woffington,  we  are  told, 
was  brought  into  serious  reflection  upon  a  future  existence  by  a  casual  visit  to 
the   chapel  where  John,  Wesley   preached. 

It  may  be  that  the  words  of  this  eloquent  divine  exerted  a  beneficial 
influence  over  her  mind.  But  there  is  another,  and  more  natural  reason  for 
her  conversion  to  religious  thought.  Her  sister's  husband  had  only  recently 
changed  his  sword  for  the  shepherd's  crook,  and  left  the  army  to  become 
curate  in  the  Established  Church  Mary  Woffington's  bent  of  mind  was 
possibly  religious — and  if  she  was  instrumental  in  converting  her  husband,  why- 
is  it  not  reasonable  to  suppose  that  she  was  the  ministering  angel  who  guided 
her  sister  to  higher  paths?  There  can  be  no  question  of  the  innate  good- 
ness of  Margaret  Woffington's  heart,  and  her  conversion  to  the  practice  of 
religion  was  easy.  God's  hand  was  to  be  seen  in  more  than  one  of  the 
generous  acts   of  her  life. 

However,  it  is  a  fact   that  after   the  stroke  of  paralysis  she  became  more 


*  "  Mackliniana  " — European   Magazine,   May,   1800. 

(149) 


PERIOD  XV. 

zealous  in  charity  to  the  poor  of  her  neighborhood.  We  are  told  that  she 
built  a  row  of  alms-houses  for  the  indigent,  which  are  still  to  be  seen  at 
Teddington,  with  the  tablet  identifying  them  as  the  Woffington  cottages.  She 
knitted  stockings,  which,  along  with  baskets  of  provisions,  she  personally  carried 
through  the  lanes  of  Teddington   to   the   cottages   of  her  poor  pensioners. 


During  these  three  declining  years  Peg  Woffington  never  once  entered 
the  scene  of  her  former  triumphs,  nor  mingled  in  any  way  with  her  former 
theatrical  associates.  Many  called  her  new  fervor  hypocrisy.  It  is  not  a  novel 
cry  against  those  who  have  had  the  light  to  see,  and  the  courage  to  avoid  their 
former  errors.     Happily  Providence — not  man— judges  motives.     I  do  not  think 

(I50) 


FROM  LIFE  TO  DEATH. 

that  Woffington  became  a  bigot;  but  the  emptiness  of  the  friendships  which 
had  been  professed  for  her  doubtless  became  apparent  as  she  lay  wasting  away, 
balancing  for  so  long  a  time  between  life  and  death.  The  frailty  and  hollow- 
ness  of  the  bubble   of  pleasure  dawned  upon   her. 

Once,  when  a  young  lady  came  to  Teddington  to  entreat  her  assistance 
toward  gaining  an  engagement  in  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  Peg  Woffington 
advised  her  in  the  strongest  terms  to  abandon  the  idea  of  going  upon  the 
stage.  "There  is  no  position  in  life,"  she  said,  "so  full  of  incessant  tempta- 
tions." A  much  more  forcible  truth  against  the  theatre  of  Woffington's  time 
than  of  our  own. 

During  the  last  years  of  her  life  Margaret  Woffington  made  a  will  by 
which  she  bequeathed  an  annuity  of  forty  pounds  a  year  to  her  mother  for  life, 
and  the  remainder  of  her  property,  amounting,  it  is  stated,  to  over  five 
thousand  pounds,  to  Mrs.  Cholmondely.  These  were  her  own  hard  earned 
savings,  for  it  seems  that  her  annuity  from  McSwiney  was  to  cease  at  her 
death. 

Woffington's  fortune  must  have  been  very  much  greater.  From  the 
statement  of  account  furnished  by  her  broker  of  the  disposition  made  of  funds 
entrusted  to  him,  while  she  still  lay  an  invalid  after  her  farewell  performance, 
and  to  which  she  has  appended  her  signature  in  attestation  of  its  correctness 
(a  fac-simile  of  which  I  am  able  to  furnish  through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  McKee, 
to  whom  the  original  belongs),  it  will  be  seen  exactly  what  money  she  was 
once  possessed  of;  and  it  is  but  natural  to  suppose  her  the  owner  of  a 
considerable  amount  of  personal  and  household  property,  which  she  had  accu- 
mulated during  her  long  and   successful   professional   career.  * 

The  following  is  that  statement  of  her  bankers  to  which  I  have  just 
referred : 

*  Her  friend,  Mrs.  Barrington,  had  expected  to  become  possessed  of  her  stage-jewels, 
but  as  there  was  no  clause  to  that  effect  in  the  will,  Mrs.  Cliolmondely  insisted  upon  retaining 
them.  Mrs.  Barrington,  in  order  to  /told  them,  insinuated  that  they  were  worthless,  and  only 
fit  for  stage  effects.  But  this  can  Itardly  have  been  the  case,  for  it  was  the  custom  of  Woffing- 
ton's aristocratic  worshippers  to  tender  t/teir  homage  in  the  substantial  form  of  real  diamonds. 

(ISO 


PERIOD  XV. 


343 

1757 


MRS   MARGT    WOFFINGTON 


D? 


paid   for   3000   3  $G   Annuities 2 

paid  for    1000  Subscription _   Mr  Perry 

paid   2?    paym',    io$G,    on   D° _ 

paid   3?  paym',  i5^G,  on  1000  Subscription...... 

paid  on  3^  f^G  Loan  at  the   Exchequer 1 

paid  4*  paym',   i^^C1.,  on    1000  Subscription 

paid  5*  paym'  i5^G  on  D° _ 

paid 4 

paid   for    200  India  Army _ 

paid  to  Balance _ 

1  allow  of  this  Amount,  having  reed  the   Balance     8 
&  Exchanged   the  Voucher  this    13  Deer   1757. 

MargT   Woffington 


Apr: 

29 

May 

4 

June 

3 

July 

1 

7 

Aug: 

2 

17 

Sep: 

20 

Oct: 

19 

Nov: 

7 

Dec: 

13 

673 

2 

*73 

15 

100 

5o 

150 

200 

150 

150 

021 

4 

177 

10 

22 

10 

868 

2 

This  is  evidently  an  account  rendered  by  the  bankers  of  Mrs.  Woffington, 
who  acted  as  her  financial  agents,  of  their  disposition  of  deposits  of  moneys 
made  by  her  with  them,  aggregating  the  large  sum  of  .£8,868  2s.  3d.,  equal  in 
these  days  to  far  more  than  #42,921.68,  its  equivalent  in  our  currency.  Indeed, 
I  should  say  that  Woffington's  fortune,  at  the  moment  when  paralysis  bereft  the 
stage  of  her  talents,  amounted  in  round  numbers  to  at  least  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  reckoned  by  the  value  of  money  in  our  day.  It  appears 
from  the  above  account  that  her  bankers  invested  for  her  in  stock  all  but  the 
sum  of  ,£4,043  14s.  9d.,  which  she  drew  in  cash,  thus  taking  out  in  one  day 
(October  19th)  the  large  sum  of  $19,462.82,  evidently  in  a  single  payment. 
To  whom  was  this  given  ?  Possibly  it  was  the  purchase-money  for  the  Ted- 
dington   Alms-house  property. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  adverse  comment  on  the  disposition  which 
Peg  Woffington   made   by  will   of  her  remaining  property. 

(152) 


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FROM  LIFE   TO  DEATH. 

Colonel  Caesar  had  given  it  out  to  the  public  before  her  demise  that 
he  was  to  be  her  sole  legatee.  If  they  had  been  married  in  reality,  of  course 
her  property  would  belong  to  him.  That  he  did  not  secure  it  thus,  ought  to 
be  proof  enough   that   Mrs.   Woffington   never  became   Mrs,   Caesar. 

"  Woffington's  will,"  wrote  Macklin,  "  though,  it  is  said,  greatly  disappointed 
the  Colonel  (who,  perhaps,  might  have  disappointed  her,  had  it  been  his  turn 
to  go  first),  was  more  suitable  to  the  duties  she  owed  to  so  near  and  valued 
a  relative.  Some  generalship  was  practiced  on  this  occasion  between  Mrs. 
Woffington  and  the  Colonel.  The  former  having  neglected  to  make  a  clause 
in  favor  of  her  sister  until  her  last  illness,  the  Colonel  suspected  her  intentions, 
and  with  a  view  to  prevent  diem,  was  constant  in  his  daily  visits,  prolonging 
diem  almost  from  morning  until  night  The  sister  took  advantage,  however,  of 
the  Colonel's  leaving  the  house  one  evening  rather  early,  and  had  the  will 
altered  to  her  own  mind,  and  the  codicil  was  completed  just  in  time,  as  the 
Colonel  returned  before  he  went  to  bed,  to  bid  another  adieu  to  his  lovely 
Peggy." 

At  length  the  end  came. 

Woffington  had  come  up  to  London  from  Teddington,  and  was  stopping 
temporarily  in  Queen's  Square,  Westminster,  when  the  gaunt  Conqueror  of  all 
made  his  call  upon  her.  In  this  place,  on  the  28th  of  March,  1760,  in  the 
morning,  she  fell  asleep. 

Before  she  died  she  must  have  expressed  a  wish  to  make  her  long 
rest  in  Teddington :  for  thither  upon  an  early  April  morning  she  was  carried, 
and  in  the  month  of  smiles  and  tears  such  as  her  life  had  been,  she  was 
buried  in  the  old  church-yard — but  in  what  spot  no  one  can  tell.  The  tablet 
erected  in  the  chancel  of  the  litde  church,  beside  the  great  organ,  notes 
that  "near  this  spot  lies,"   etc 

When  the  church  and  the  church-yard  were  put  in  order  many  years 
ago,  no  trace  of  her  remains  was  found:  like  the  dust  of  Caesar,  all  that  was 
mortal  of  Peg  Woffington  may  have  been  ground  into  powder  between  old 
Time's  millstone  years,  and,  wafted  on  the  winds  of  another  March,  been  blown 
across  the  road  upon  the  window-panes  of  the  litde  row  of  the  Woffington 
2°  (153) 


PERIOD  XV. 

alms-houses  which    face    the   old    church,   and   which   yet    attest    the    love    and 
charity  of  the  donor. 

The    tablet  placed    by   loving    hands   in   the   church  still    further   recites, 

as  may  be  seen,   that: 

7*  the  same  grave 

Lies  the  body  of  Martin  Horace   Cholmondely 

Son  of  the  Hon'ble  Robert   Cholmondely  and 

Mary   Cholmondely  sister  of  the  said  Margaret 

Woffington,  aged  8  months. 


(»54) 


FROM  LIFE  TO  DEATH. 

What  a  mystery  lies  in  these  lines!  Why  does  this  little  infant  rest  with 
Margaret  Woffington  in  her  eternal  sleep?  Who  can  read  the  secret  of  the 
love,  or  who  may  touch  the  chord  of  sympathy  which  must  have  vibrated 
between  these  two  in  life — and  which  became  stilled  in  both  hearts,  perhaps, 
at  one  and  the  same  moment,   in   a  simultaneous  death. 

The  passing  away  of  this  brilliant  and  beautiful  woman  was  the  severest 
of  misfortunes  to  the  stage,  and  a  loss  of  no  common  magnitude  to  the 
social  world. 

In  the  latter  she  had  shone  with  a  lustre  only  equaled  by  the 
brilliancy  which  she  lent  to  the  theatre. 

In  her  childhood  she  had  run  barefooted  through  the  streets  and 
along  the  quays  of  Dublin  a  bricklayer's  orphan  and  a  peddler  of  fruit  and 
vegetables.* 

In  her  womanhood  she  was  courted  by  the  representatives  of  the  highest 
circles  of  London  as-  the  first  actress  of  the  age,  and  as  a  brilliant  hostess 
among  the  most  noted  of  her  time.  By  people  of  rank  she  was  esteemed 
for  the  sparkle  of  her  wit,  the  refinement  of  her  tastes  and  the  variety  of 
her  accomplishments. 

When  she  first  came  to  London  to  play  in  its  foremost  theatre  she 
had  but  a  single  robe  for  tragedy  parts :  and  but  one  suit  of  apparel  for 
her  afterwards  famous  character  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair.-\  Yet  she  lived  to 
set  the  fashion  in  gowns  for  the  women  of  England,  and  evinced  such 
exquisite  taste  in  matters  of  attire  that,  at  one  time,  little  that  was  novel 
was  worn   by  ladies  of  quality  unless  Woffington  had  introduced  it 

She  ruled  women  in  their  domain,  and  everybody  in  her  own. 

But  I  love  better  to  dwell  upon  the  goodness  of  her  heart,  her  sense 
of  honor,  and  her  devotion  to  duty. 

By  the  poor  she  was  held  in  affection   for  her  benevolence  and  charity 

*  Nell  Gwynne  was  muck  older  when  (as  tradition  tells  us)  site  peddled  oranges  around 
and  about  Drury  Lane,  and  when  she  was  lifted  from  the  sidewalk  there,  to  be  one  of  His 
Majesty's  Servants. 

f  Wilkinson's  Memoirs. 

(155) 


PERIOD   XV. 

toward  all   who   needed    help.      In   the   number  and  excellence  of   her  amiable 
qualities  her  frailties  were   forgotten. 

While  she  was  regarded  by  the  whole  world  as  an  honor  to  the  stage, 
to  the  country  of  her  birth,  and  to  the  city  where  she  dwelt,  she  was 
mourned  by  the  dramatic  profession  and  by  all  who  knew  her  personally  as 
one  of  the  kindest  friends   the  poor  and   helpless   ever  had. 

And  what  a  martyr  to  duty! 

When  she  was  stricken  to  the  heart  with  mortal  disease  in  the  very 
speaking  of  her  part,  she  struggled  with  the  King  of  Terrors  himself  to 
finish  her  lines   and   do   her  whole  dqty   to  the   end. 

And  what  a  soft  and  tender  spirit  must  have  been  hers !  who  that  she 
offended  but  must  have  been  touched  by  her  readiness  to  make  amends!  It 
is  a  comfort  to  think  of  her  on  that  fatal  evening,  resting  on  the  supporting 
arm  of  young  Wilkinson  and  saying  in  her  own  sweet  way,  with  her  lovely 
eyes  full  of  kindness,  those  gracious  words  to  him,  although  he  had  wounded 
her  so  deeply  but  a  little  time  before ! 

And  her  reward  was,  to  be  spared  that  night  sudden  and  unprovided 
death,  and  to  live  to  do  a  public-spirited  act  of  enduring  charity,  and  to  make 
a  peaceful   end  sustained  by  the   consolations   of  religious   faith. 

Farewell,  then,  most  beautiful,  most  gifted,  most  flattered,  most  kind, 
most  sacrificing!  A  little  weak — but  sorely  punished  for  it!  A  woman  like 
many  for  whom  Mother  Eve  is  responsible — but  such  an  one  as  man  is  apt 
to  care  most  for  and  to  drop  bitterest  tears  for,  when  all  is  over  and  death 
makes  her  goodness  seem  great  and  her  failings  small. 
A  whole  drama  ends  with  her. 

The  same  year  in  which  she  was  stricken  with  her  mortal  illness,  her 
old  admirer,  Colley  Cibber,  passed  away  amid  the  luxuries  and  vanities  of  life, 
in  Berkeley  Square — and  a  little  month  after  Woffington's  death,  this  same 
vain  old  man's  despised  and  forgotten  daughter,  Charlotte  Charke,  whom 
Woffington  had  often  befriended  when  her  own  father  would  not, — breathed 
her  last  in  a  miserable  lodging  in   Clerkenwell. 

That    the  subject  of   these  few  chapters,  by  her  death  excited  feelings 

(156) 


FROM  LIFE   TO  DEATH. 

of  profound  concern  is  witnessed  by  the  tributes  that  followed  her.  And  I 
cannot  more  fitly  close  this  offering  which  I  have  made  to  her  memory  than 
by  quoting  the  final  and  predictive  lines  of  the  Monody  that  John  Hoole 
wrote   "In    Memory   of  Margaret  Woffington " : — 

Farewell,  the   glory   of  a  wond'ring  age ! 
The   second   Oldfield   of  a   sinking   stage! 
Farewell   the   boast  and   envy   of  thy  kind 
A   female   softness   and   a   manly   mind ! 
Long  as   the   Muses   can   record   thy  praise 
Thy   fame   shall   last  till   far   succeeding   days : 
While   Wit   survives   thy   name   shall   ever  bloom 
And   wreaths    unfading   flourish   round   thy  tomb ! 
While   thus  I   tune   the   plaintive   notes   in   vain 
For  her   whose   worth   demands    a   nobler  strain, 
Lo !    to   my   heart   some   warning   Genius   cries — 
Attempt   not    swain,   beyond   thy   flight   to   rise 
Shall   thy  weak   skill   attempt   to   raise   our   woes 
Or   paint   a   loss   that   every   bosom   knows ! 
'Tis   not   thy   lays   can   teach   us   tears   to   shed 
What   eye   refrains — for   Woffington   is   dead! 


057) 


ADDENDA, 


IN  FOUR  PARTS. 


I._WOFFINGTON'S  CHARACTERS. 

H.— WOFFINGTON'S  GHOST. 

III.— A   MONODY. 

IV.— INDEX. 


(159) 


I. 


List  of  Parts  acted  by  Peg  Woffington. 


IN    CHILDHOOD. 


Polly, 

Macheath,     . 

Mrs.    Peachum, 

Nell,     . 

Mother   Midnight, 

Phillida, 

Miss  Lucy, 

Belvidera, 

Flora, 


in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 


The  Beggars'   Opera 


The  Devil  to  Pay 

.    Twin  Rivals 

.    Damon  and  Phillida 

.    Virgin   Unmasked 

Humors  of  the  Army 

.  Ye  Village  Opera 


IN     LATER    LIFE. 


Ophelia,  . 
Queen, 
Cordelia, 
Constance,    . 
Veturia,     . 
Lady  Percy,     . 
Desdemona, 
Queen,     . 
Lady  Anne, 
Queen   Katharine, 
Portia, 


in 
in 
in 
in 


(Thompson's  version) 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
(160) 


Hamlet 


King  Lear 

King  John 

Coriolanus 

Henry  IV 

Othello 

Richard  III 


Henry  VIII 
Julius  Caesar 


WOFFINGTON'S  CHARACTERS. 


Isabella, 

Kate,    .... 

Hippolito, 

Helena, 

Lady  Macbeth, 

Portia, 

Nerissa 

Beatrice, 

Rosalind, 

Viola,    .... 

Mrs.    Ford, 

Zara,     .         . 

Lothario, 

Caiista, 

Jane   Shore, 

Alicia, 

Lady  Jane   Grey,     . 

Arpasia, 

Penelope. 

Andromache, 

Hermione, 

Marcia, 

Queen   Mary, 

Lady  Catherine   Gordon, 

Lady  Randolph, 

Roxana, 

Jocasta,     .         .         .         . 

Cleopatra, 

Palmira,    .         . 

Pha;dre, 

Monimia, 

Sigismunda, 

21 


in 
in 


(Dryden's  version) 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
in 
(161) 


.     Measure   for  Measure 

.     Henry  IV 

The  Tempest 

All's  Well   diat  Ends  Well 

Macbeth 

Merchant  of  Venice 

«  M 

Much   Ado  about   Nothing 

.     As  You   Like   It 

.      Twelfth   Night 

Merry   Wives  of  Windsor 

The   Mourning   Bride 

The   Fair   Penitent 

U  U  it 

Jane   Shore 


Lady  Jane   Grey 

Tamerlane 

Ulysses 

The   Distressed   Mother 


.         .         .         .     Cato 

Mary   Queen   of  Scots 

.    Henry  VII 

.   Douglas 

.     Alexander 

.    (Edipus 

All   for  Love 

Mahomet 

Phaedre   and  Hippolitus 

.     The  Orphan 

Tancred 


WOFFINGTON'S  CHARACTERS. 


Anne  Bullen,  ....  in 

Queen   Mary,       ....  in 

Almira, in 

Angelica, in 

Sir  Harry  Wildair,  ...  in 

Lady  Lurewell,    ....  in 

Sylvia, in 

Mrs.   Sullen,  ....  in 

Cherry, in 

Lady  Townly,       ....  in 

Maria, in 

Lady   Betty   Modish,    ...  in 

Angelica, in 

Millamant, in 

Lady  Pliant,     .        ...         .         .  in 

Lady  Touchwood,        .        .        .  in 

Laetitia, in 

Bellamante, in 

Helena,     ......  in 

Charlotte,      .....  in 

Phyllis in 

Rosetta, in 

Mrs.  Day,         .....  in 

Ruth, in 

Clarinda, in 

Lucetta,         .         .         .         .         .  in 

Charlotte, in 

Berinthia, in 

Laetitia,  in 

Celia in 

Elvira, in 

Violante,        .         ...         .         .  in 

Isabella, in 

(162) 


Virtue   Betrayed 

.  .    Albion's   Queen 

The   Mourning  Bride 

The  Gamester 

.     The   Constant  Couple 
«  i<  << 

.  The  Recruiting  Officer 
The   Beaux'  Stratagem 

.'<  it  M 

The   Provoked  Husband 

The  Nonjuror 

The  Careless   Husband 

Love   for  Love 

.     The  Way  of  the  World 

The  Double  Dealer 

M  H  U 

•  • 

The  Old  Bachelor 

The  Emperor  of  the  Moon 

The   Rover 

The  Wedding  Day 

The  Conscious  Lovers 

The  Foundling 

The  Committee 

The   Suspicious   Husband 

The   Refusal 

The   Relapse 

The  Astrologer 

The   Humorous   Lieutenant 

The   Spanish   Fryar 

The   Wonder 

The   Fatal   Marriage 


WOFFINGTON'S   CHARACTERS. 


Aura, in 

Violante in 

Victoria in 

Florella, in 

Lady   Brute in 

Lady  Fanciful,       ....  in 

Belinda, in 

Clarissa in 

Narcissa, in 

Amanda, in 

Jacintha, in 

Elvira, in 

Loonora, in 

Estifania,       .....  in 

Lady, in 

Aurelia, in 

Florinel,    ......  in 

Constantia,  ....  in 

Penelope, in 

Mrs.    Conquest,    ....  in 

Hypolita, in 

Flora,    .  ....  in 

Sulpitia, In 

Mariana in 

Aminta,    .       •  .         .         .         .         .  in 

Belinda, in 

Mrs.  Loveit, in 

Belinda, in 

Silvia,        .         .         .         .         .         .  in 

Lady   Rhadomont,         ...  in 

Lady   No, in 

Arabella, in 

(163) 


Country  Lasses 

The   Double   Falsehood 

The   Fatal   Marriage 

.  Greenwich   Park 

The   Provoked  Wife 


The   Confederacy 
.    Love's  Last  Shift 

M  U  II 

The  Suspicious   Husband 

.  Love   Makes  a ,  Man 

.    Sir   Courtly   Nice 

Rule  a  Wife  and   Have   a  Wife 

Comus 

The  Twin   Rivals 

The   Comical  Lovers 

The   Gallants 

.   The   Lying  Lover 

The   Lady's  Last  Stake 

She  Wou'd  and   She  Wou'dn't 


«  «  «        i< 


Albumazar 

.   The   Miser 

.    The   Sea  Voyage 

The  Artful   Husband 

The   Man   of  the  Mode 

(t  tt  it  u  u 

Marry  and   Do  Worse 

Fine    Lady's  Airs 

.    London    Cuckolds 


WOFFINGTON'S  CHARACTERS. 

Lady  Frail, in         ...         .        Love   for  Love 

Angelica, in             .... 

Nell, in         .         .         The  Way  of  the  World 

Clarinda, in             ...    The   Double   Gallant 

Lady   Dainty,  .....  in         ...          " 

Lady  Sadlife,        ....  in             ..." 

Oriana, in         ...         .         The   Inconstant 

Oriana, in             .          The   Fair   Quaker  of  Deal 

Widow   Lackit,         .         .         .  in 

Lady, in             ...      The   Scornful   Lady 

Melantha, in                               The    Frenchified   Lady 

Belvidera, in            ...         Venice   Preserved 

Adriana, in                                     Comedy  of  Errors 

Angelina in             .                     Love   Makes  a   Man 

Queen   Elizabeth,     ....  in         ...         .           Earl  of  Essex 

In  addition  to  the  foregoing  extraordinary  list  of  characters,  created  or 
revived,  by  Margaret  Woffington  during  her  thirty  years'  career  upon  the  stage 
she  gave  voice  and  life  to  a  countless  number  of  Prologues  and  Epilogues,  a 
partial  list  of  which  is   appended: 

Epilogue   spoken  after  her   first   appearance   as   Portia. 

Prologue  to  "  The  Quacks,"  spoken  on  the  occasion  of  her  benefit  and  the  debut 
of  her  sister. 

Epilogue  written  by  Garrick  on  the  opening  of  Drury  Lane,  under  his  management. 

Epilogue  to  "  The  Astrologer,"  written  by  Garrick  for  Mrs.  Woffington. 

Epilogue   spoken   in   the   character   of  a   Female   Volunteer. 

Epilogue  on  Shakspere's  Women's  Characters,  spoken  after  "Merchant  of  Venice," 
in   1744. 

An  Occasional   Epilogue,  spoken  in  men's   clothes,  after  "The  Gallants." 

Epilogue  spoken   after  "Three   Weeks   after   Marriage,"    1746. 

Epilogue   to   "  Hamlet,"   when   Barry   acted   the  part   for  the   first  time    in    London. 

Epilogue  to  the  "Refusal,"    1747. 

Epilogue  to  the  "Artful  Husband,"  addressed  to  the  Young  Gentlemen  who  call 
themselves  "The  Town."      Spoken  by  Mrs.  Woffington  in   men's   clothes. 

An  Occasional  Epilogue  to  "The  Suspicious  Husband,"  acted  for  the  benefit  of 
trie   Lying-in   Hospital,    1755. 

A   New  Epilogue,   after  playing  Roxana  in   the   "  Rival    Queens,"    1756. 

A   New   Epilogue  to   "Ulysses,"    in   the   character   of  Penelope. 

(164) 


MEMOIRS 

Of  the  celebrated 

Mrs.  WOFFINGTON, 

INTERSPERSED 

With  feveral  Theatrical  Anecdotes  ; 

The  Amours  of  many  Perfons  of  the  Firft  Rank  ; 

And  Ibrne  interefting  Chara&ers  drawn  from  real 
LIFE. 


She  "wat  Jo  charming, 

Age  budded  at  her  Sight,  and  fweW  d  to  Youth  : 
The  holy  Priefts  gaz'd  on  her  nvhen  fhe  fmil'd, 
And  ivith  heanj'd  Hands,  forgetting  Gravity, 
They  blefs'd  her  wanton  Eyes.  Dryden. 


The  Sbcond  Edition,  with  Additions. 

LONDON: 
Printed  for  J.  Swan,     M,  DCC,  LX. 


PACSIMILE  0F  THK  PIRST  „D  0NLy  0THEH 

OF  MRS.  WOFFINGTON. 


™  »  r„E  SCURRIL0US  pAWMm  referr£d  TQ  m  the  ^^ 


II. 


Woffington's  Ghost. 


~J^T  FTER  the  death  of  Woffington  scurrility  was  active,  and  a  pamphlet, 
M^M  pretending  to  relate  scandalous  events  of  her  life,  was  published. 
M  "^  Immortal  Magdalen  was  not  more  hounded  until  she  fell  at  the 
feet  of  the  Saviour  and  found  forgiveness,  than  was  Margaret 
Woffington.  Of  course,  she  had  defenders.  Not  always  sincere  defenders, 
however.*  Her  life  had  not  been  without  blemish — but  it  was  also  full  of 
deeds   of  goodness ;    and   happily   Providence   holds   the   scales. 

A  broadside   in  verse  was   published   in  1761,  with   the   following   inscrip- 
tion   upon   the   title-page: 

WOFFINGTON'S    GHOST. 
A  Poem 
In   Answer  to  the   Meretrician. 
" The   Queen   of  Love 


Promiscuous   blessings   to   her   slaves   assigned 

And   shewed   the   world   that   Beauty   should   be    kind." 

It  pretended  to  be  a  defence  of  Woffington,  but  it  was  under  that  cover 
as  scandalous  in  its  way  as  anything  published  against  her  by  open  enemies. 
Starting  out  with  the  pretended  purpose  to  defend  its  predestined  victim,  it 
opens : 

"Ye  awful  shades   of  beauties  long  since   dead 

"  Whose   potent   charms    in   chains   have   monaichs   led 

"Who,   in   times   past,   love's   paths    have   freely  trod 

"  Rise  to  revenge,   and  armed  with  terror's  rod 

"  Forth  from  your   mansions  where  you're   doomed  now  come 

"  And    from   your   followers'   brows   dispel   this   gloom 

"This  gloom   which   all  Love's  nymphs  has  quite  o'erspread 

"And  heartfelt  anguish   in  their  looks  are   read 

"Some  scribbling  wight  to  them   &   Love  a  foe 

"  In   dark   drawn  colors   from  his  envy's  flow 

"  Has   sullied  some  whose  lives  were  pure  as  snow " 

*  T/tere  was  published  in  1766,  by  one  Bladon,  a  pamphlet  entitled  "A   Dialogue  in 
the  Shades  between  Mrs.    Woffington  and  Mrs.    Cibber " — which  was  as  scurrilous  as  any. 


(165) 


WOFFINGTON'S  GHOST. 


The   invocation   is  answered,  for  the   rhymster  goes  on   to   picture  how: 

" A  beauteous  train 


"Array'd  with  charms,  immediate  filled  the  plain 

"When   one  stood  forth  &  thus   majestic  spoke 

"No  more  in  vain  shall  British  nymphs  invoke" — etc. 

The  one  who  thus  "stood  forth"  is  supposed  to  be  the  Shade  or  Ghost 
of  Woffington,  who,  after  a  preliminary  lashing  of  the  infamous  pamphleteers 
who  presumed  to  defame  her  and  her  sisterhood,  proceeds  in  most  execrable 
rhyme,  in  which  "find"  is  made  to  mate  with  "joined,"  and  "town"  to  mate 
with  "known,"  etc.,  to  besmirch — more  scandalously  than  her  traducer,  in  his 
preliminary  stanzas  had  done  with  inuendo  and  most  "damning  excuses," 
Mrs.  Bellamy,  Anne  Cately,  Kitty  Fisher,  Mrs.  Cibber,  Mrs.  Abington — who 
had  just  come  upon  the  London  stage  from  Ireland,  and  a  host  more  of 
her  sisterhood.  I  shall  not  repeat  the  scurrilous  screed,  but  turn  upon 
the  author  some  lines  of  his  own,  which  he  makes  to  issue  from  the  lips  of 
Woffington's   Ghost.      They  are  quite   fitting  to   fellows   of  his   stamp: 

"  Say,   thou   base,   black   defamer   of  the   fair 
"To   what   malicious   devil    art  thou   heir; 
"Unconscious  wretch!    infernal   infidel! 
"Who  but  thyself  such  scandal   dared   to  tell 
"To  propagate  such   vile,   such   daring   lies 
"  At  which   your   gloomy  patron,   Shame   on't !    cries 
"No   more  your   face    in    open   daylight  shew 
"Doom'd   to   a   dungeon's   darkness,   may  you   go 
"  May   grief  on   grief,   passion   on   passion    roll 
"And   in   the   dreary   torrent  whelm   your   soul." 


(i  66) 


III. 


A  Monody 


TO  THE 

MEMORY  OF  MARGARET  WOFFINGTON, 

BY 

JOHN    HOOLE. 

"  Flebelis  indignos  salve  capiilas, 
Ah!  mmis  ex  vero  nunc  tibi  nomen  exit." — Ovid. 

%*  (As  a  fitting  tribute  to  the  memory  of  this  brilliant  woman  Hoole's 
Monody  is  appended.  Mr.  Hoole  was  the  translator  of  Tasso  and  the  author 
of  "Timanthes"  and  several  other  tragedies.  Madame  D'Arblay  always  refers 
to  him  in  her  writings  as  "the  good   Mr.   Hoole.") 

There  fled  the  fair  that  all  beholders  charm  d, 
Whose  beauty  fiVd  and  whose  spirit  warm'd. 
In  that  sad  sigh  th'   unwilling  breath  retir'd 
The  grace,  the  glory  of  our  scene  expir'd. 
And  shall   she  die,  the   Muses'   rites   unpaid, 
No  grateful   lays  to  deck  her  parting  shade, 
While  on  her  bier  the  sister  Graces   mourn, 
And  weeping  Tragedy  bedews  her  urn 
While  Comedy  her  cheerful  vein  foregoes 
And  learns  to   melt  with   unaccustom'd   woes? 

Accept  (Oh  once  admir'd!)  these  artless  lays, 
Accept  this  mite  of  tributary  praise. 
Oh !  could   I  paint  thee  with  a  master's  hand, 
And  give  thee  all  thy  merits  could  demand, 
These  lines  would  flow  with  true  poetic  flame, 
Bright  as  thine  eyes  and  faultless  as  thy  frame. 
We  mourned  thy  absence  from  the  scene  retir'd, 
Each  longing  heart  again  thy  charms  desir'd; 
Yet  still,  alas!    we  hoped  again  to  view 
Our  wish,  our  pleasure,  every  joy  in  you  I 

(167) 


A  MONODY. 

Again  thy  looks  might  grace  the  tragic  rage, 
Again  thy  spirit  fill  the  comic  stage — 
But  lo!    disease  hangs  hov'ring  o'er  thy  head, 
Dire  danger  stalks  around  thy  frighted  bed. 
Those  starry  eyes  have  lost   each  beamy  ray 
And  ghastly  sickness  makes  the  Fair  her  prey ! 
Death  shut     the  scene  and  all  our  hopes  are   o'er, 
Those  beauties  now  must  glad  the  night  no  more. 
Say  ye,  whose  features'  youthful  lustre  bloom, 
Whose  lips  exhale  Arabia's  soft  perfume — 
Must  every  gift  in  silent  dust  be  lost, 
No  more  the  wish  of  man  or  female  breast? 
Ah  me!    with  time  must  every  grace  be  fled — 
She,  once  the  pride  of  all  our  stage,   is   dead. 
Closed  are  those  eyes  that  every  bosom  fir'd, 
Pale  are  those  charms  that  every  heart  inspir'd 
Where  now  the   mien  with  majesty  endued, 
Which,  oft  surprised,  a  ravish'd  audience   viewed? 

What  forms  too  oft  the  tragic  scene  disgrace ! 
What  tasteless  airs  the   comic  scene  deface ! 
Though  tuneful   Cibber  still   the   Muse  sustains, 
By  nature  fram'd  to  pour  the   moving  strains : 
Tho'   from   her  eye  each  heartfelt  passion  breaks, 
And   more  than  music  warbles  when  she  speaks. 
When  shall  we  view  again,  like  thine  conjoin'd, 
A  form  angelic  and  a  piercing  mind; 
Alike  in  every  mimic   scene  to  steer 
The  grave,  the  gay,  the  lively  and  severe? 
Thy  judgment  saw,  thv   taste  each  beauty  caught, 
No  senseless  parrot  of  the  poet's  thought. 
Thy  bosom  well  could  heave  with  fancied  woe 
And  from  thy  own,  our  tears  were  taught  to  flow. 
Whene'er  we  view'd  the   Roman's  sullied  fame, 
Thy  beauty  justified   the  hero's  flame. 
What  heart  must  then  but  Anthony  approve 
And  own  the  world  was  nobly  lost  for  love ! 
What  ears  could  hear  in  vain  thy  cause   implor'd 
When  soothing  arts  appeas'd  thy  angry  lord ! 
Each  tender  heart  the  rough  Ventidius  blam'd, 
And   Egypt   gained   the   sigh   Octavia  claim'd. 
Thy   eloquence   each   hush'd   attention   drew 
While   Love   usurped  the  tears  to  Virtue  due. 

(168) 


A  MONODY. 

See   Phaedra   rise   majestic   o'er  the   scene, 
What   raging   pangs   distract  the   hapless   queen! 
How   does   thy   sense   the   poet's   thought   refine, 
Beam   through   each   word,   and   brighten   every   line ! 
What   nerve,   what  vigor   glows   in   every   part 
While  classic   lays   appear  with   classic   art! 
Who   now   can   bid   the  proud  Roxana   rise, 
With   love   and   anger   sparkling   in   her   eyes? 
Who   now   shall   bid   her  breast   in   fury   glow, 
With  all  the   semblance  of  imperial   woe, 
While   the   big  passion   raging   in   her  veins 
Would  hold  the   master  of  the  world  in  chains — 
But  Alexander  now   forsakes   our  coast 
And   Ah  1     Roxana   is  forever   lost ! 
Nor  less   thy  pow'r,   when   rigid   virtue   fir'd, 
The   chaster  bard  and  purer   thoughts   inspir'd. 
What   kneeling   form   appears,   with   steadfast   eyes 
Her  bosom   heaving   with    Devotion's   sighs — 
'Tis  she!     In  thee  we  own  the  mournful  scene, 
The   fair  resemblance  of  a   martyred   queen.* 
Here   Guido's   skill   might   mark   thy  speaking   frame 
And  catch  from  thee  the  painter's  magic  flame  ! 

Blest   in   each   art,  by   nature   form'd   to   please, 
With  beauty,  sense,   with  elegance  and  ease; 
Whose  piercing  genius   studied   all   mankind, 
All   Shakspere   opening  to    thy  vigorous   mind, 
In  every  scene  of  comic  humour  known, 
In   sprightly   sallies,   wit  was   all   thy   own — 
Whether  you   seemed   the   Cit's  more   humble   wife 
Or  shone   in    Townl/s  higher   sphere   of  life, 
Alike   thy   spirit  knew   each   turn   of  wit, 
And  gave  new  force  to  all  the  poet  writ 

Nor  was   thy   worth   to   public   scenes   confin'd, 

Thou    knewest   all   the   noblest   feelings   of  the   mind. 

Thy   ears   were   ever   open   to   distress, 

Thy   ready   hand   was   ever   stretched   to   bless, 

Thy  breast  humane,   for   each    unhappy   felt, 

Thy   heart   for   others'   sorrows   prone   to   melt. 

In   vain   did   Envy   point   her  scorpion   sting, 

In   vain   did   Malice   shake   her  blasting   wing. 


*  Lady  Jane   Grey. 
22  (169) 


A  MONODY. 

Each   generous   breast   disdain'd   th'    unpleasing   talc 
And   cast   o'er   every   fault   Oblivion's   veil, 
Confessed   thro'   every   fault   thy   deeds   to   shine 
And   owned   the   virtues    of  Compassion    thine ! 
Saw   mild  Benevolence   her   wand    disclose 
And   touch   thy   heart   at   ev'ry    sufferer's   woes ; 
Saw   meek-eyed    Charity   thy   steps   attend 
And    guide   thy   hand   the   wretched   to   befriend. 
Go,   ask   the   breast   that   teems   with    mournful   sighs, 
Who   wiped   the   sorrows   from   Affliction's   eyes — 
Go,   ask   the   wretch    in   want   and   sickness   laid, 
Whose   goodness   brightened  once    Misfortune's   shade  ! 

Oh !    Snatch    me   hence   to   some    sequest'red    scenes, 
To   arching   grottoes   and   embow'ring   greens, 
Where   scarce   a   ray   can   pierce   the   leafy   shade, 
Where   scarce   a   footstep   marks   the   dewy   glade, 
Where   pale-hued    Grief,    her   secret   dwelling   keeps, 
Where   the   chill   blood   with    lazy   horror   creeps, 
Where   awful    Silence   spreads   her   noiseless   wing, 
And   Sorrow's   harp    may  tune   the   dismal    string — 
Or   rather   lead    my   steps   to   distant  plains 
Where   closing   earth    enfolds   her   last   remains : 
What   time   the   moon   displays    her   silver   beam, 
And   groves   and   floods    reflect   the   milder   gleam : 
When   Contemplation    broods   with   thoughts   profound 
And   fairy  visions   haunt   the   sylvan    ground. 
Lo!    Fancy   now,    on   airy   pinions    spread 
With   scenes   ideal   hovers   o'er   my   head. 
I   see — I   see !    more  pleasing   themes   arise — 
What   mystic   shadows   flit   before   my   eyes ! 
Imagination   paints   the   sacred   grove, 
The   place   devote   to   poetry   and    love. 
Here   grateful   poets   hail   the   actors'    name 
And   pay   the    rightful   tribute   to   their   fame ; 
Around   their   tomb,    in   generous   sorrow   mourn, 
And   twine   the    laurels   o'er   the    favoured   urn. 

Me   thinks   I   view    the   last   sepulchral    frame 
That   bears   inscrib'd   her   much    lamented   name — 
See!    to   my   view   the    Drama's   sons   displayed! 
What  laurel'd   phantoms   crowd   the   awful   shade! 
First   of  the   choir   immortal,  Shakespere   stands, 
Whose   searching   eye   all   nature's   scene   demands; 
Bright   in   his   look   celestial   spirit  blooms 
And    Genius    o'er   him   waves  her   eagle   plumes. 

(170) 


A  MONODY. 

Next   tender   Southern,   skill'd   the   soul   to   move, 

And   gentle    Rowe   who   tunes   the   breast   to   love; 

The   witty   Congreve   near   with   sprightly   mien; 

And   easy   Farquhar  with   his   lighter   scene; 

A   numerous   train   of  bards   the   shrine   surround. 

In   tragic   strains   and   comic   love    renown'd. 

See   on   the   tomb   yon   pensive   form   appear, 

Heave   the   full   sigh    and   drop   the   frequent   tear: 

The   garments   loose   her   throbbing   bosom   show, 

Dispers'd   in  air   her   careless  tresses   flow ; 

Round   her   pale   brow   a   mystic   wreath   is   spread; 

A   gloomy  cypress   nods   above   her   head. 

See!    while  her  hand  a  solemn  lyre   sustains 

Her   trembling   fingers   make  the   languid   strains, 

Soft   to   the   touch   the   vocal   strings  reply 

And   tune   the  notes   to  answer  every   sigh. 

She,   child   of  grief!     at   human   misery   weeps, 

At   every   death   her   dismal    vigil    keeps 

But   chief  she   mourns   when    fate's   relentless   doom 

Gives  wit  and   beauty   victims   to   the   tomb. 

Her   lyre  their   merits  and   their   loss  proclaim 

(A  mournful   task ! )    and   Elegy  her   name, 

Now   bending   o'er  the   pile   she   vents   her   moan 

And   pours   these   sorrows   on  the   senseless   stone. 

Ah !    lost,   forever  lost  the  breath  that  warm'd, 

The   wit  that   ravish'd  and   the   mien    that  charm'd, 

Here   sleeps,   beneath,   the   fairest   of  the   fair, 

The  Grace's   darling   and   the    Muse's   care! 

Who   once  could   fix   a   thousand   gazers'  eyes, 

Now   cold   and   lifeless,   unregarded   lies! 

Who   once   the   soul   in   bonds   of  love   detain'd 

Now   lies,   alas !     in   stronger   bonds   restrain'd. 

Pale   death   has  rifled   all    her   pleasing  store, 

And  nature   loath's   a  form   so   loved     before. 

Is   there   a  fair  whose   features   point  the   dart, 

Charm  the  fix'd  eye  and   fascinate  the  heart — 

Behold !    what  soon  disarms   the  childish   sting 

And   plucks   the   wanton  plume   from   Cupid's   wing ! 

Then  boast  no   longer  wit's  fallacious  store, 

The   sweets   of  sprightly   converse   boast   no   more. 

Those   lips   so   fram'd   to  each  persuasive   art 

No   more  shall  touch   the   ear  and   win  the  heart. 

Let   Beauty  here   her   transient   blessing   weigh  ; 

(171) 


A  MONODY. 

Let   humbled   Wit   her   pitying  tribute   pay; 

Let   female   Grace  vouchsafe   the   kindly  tear — 

Wit,   Grace   and   Beauty   once   were   centred   here ! 

Ye   sacred   Bards   who   tuned   the   drama's   lays, 

Here   pay  your   incense   of  distinguished   praise. 

She   gave  your   scene   with   every  grace  to   shine, 

She   gave   new    feeling  to   the   nervous  line, 

Her  beauties  well   supply'd   each   tragic   lore 

And   showed   those   charms  your   muse   but   feign'd   before ! 

Here,   round  her   shrine,   your   votive   wreaths  bestow, 

Around   her   shrine   eternal   greens    shall   grow. 

The   listening   groves  shall    learn   her   name   to   sing 

And   zephyrs   waft   it   on   their   downy  wing, 

Till  every   shade   these   doleful  sounds   return 

And   every   gale  in   sullen  dirges   mourn ! 

The   mourner   ends   with   sighs ;    her   hand   she   rears 

And   with    her   vesture   dries   her   gushing   tears. 

Behold !     each   bard   the   soft   contagion   feels, 

From   every   eye  the   trickling   sorrows  steals. 

See   nature's   son  lament   her   hapless  doom — 

See   Shakspere   bending   o'er   his   favorite's   tomb! 

Each   shadow-form   declines   his   awful    head, 

And   scatters   roses   on   the   funeral   bed. 

In    slow  procession   round   the   shrine   they   move 

And   chant   her  praises   through   the   tuneful   grove. 


The  concluding  lines  have  been  given   elsewhere  in   this   book. 


07*) 


For  the  BENEFIT 

Of  Mrs.  WOFFINGTON. 





.      A  T    T  H  B 

Theatre  Royal  in  Covent*Garden% 

On  THURSDAY  next,  be«ig  the  24th  of  March, 

Will   be  prefentcd   a    TRAGEDY,  call'd 

The  FAIR  PENITENT. 

Lothario  by  Mrs.  WO  F  F I N  G  T  O  N, 

Being  the  Fir  ft  Time  of  Her  Appearing  in  that  Char  after, 

Horatio    by    Mr.     BARRY, 

Sciolto  by  Mr.  SPARK  S, 
,  , .    ;        Altamont  by  Mr.  D  Y  E  R 

Rofttm  by  Mr.  A  N  D  E  R  S  O  N,       Mejjingtr  by  Mr.  H  O  L  T  O  M» 

Layinia  by  Mrs.  ELMY, 
Lucilla  by  Mils  CONDILL, 

Califta  by  Mrs.  GREGOR  Y. 

With     SINGING 

By  Mrs.    CHAMBERS, 

.And    DANCING 

By  Mr.  TOIT1ER,  Mad.  CAPDEVILLE,  6V. 

To  which  will  be  added  a  Comedy  of  Two  A£fs,  call'd 

The  FRENCHIFIED   LADY 

Never    in    P   A    R    I    S. 

Being  the  Laji  Time  ef  performing  IT. 

The  Lady  by  Mrs.  WOFFINGTON. 

Boxes  5/.         Pit  3  s.  Firft  Gallery  is.         Upper  Gallery  it. 

— ; •         •  .  -I 

%$*  Tickets  ip  be  bad,  and  Places  for  the  Boxes  taken,  of  Mr.  Crudge, 

„     .  Mt  the  Stage  Dfor  of  the  Theatre.  1 1 

r  •■       :  ■»     •'    ■■•■■ ' 

WOFFINGTON'S  LAST  MEW  PART. 

FAC-SIMIlE  OF  TMt  BILL  OF  THE  PLAY  FOH  MARCH  24ih   1  767. 


IV. 


INDEX. 


Abel  Drugger,  45 

Abingdon,  Mrs.,   166 

jEdipus,   101,   161 

All  for  Love,   132,   161 

All's   Well  that  Ends   Well,  31,   161 

Anderson,   Mr.,    146 

Anderson,  Mary,   62 

Andromac/ie  (Distressed  Mother),  40,  83,  102, 

104,   107,   115,   132,   133,    161 
Anne    Bidlen  (Virtue   Betrayed),   89,    162 
Anthony,   168 
Antony   (All  for  Love),   71 


Apollo,   122 
Arabia,  168 
Argyle,  Duke  of,   120 
Arpasia  (Tamerlane),   89,    161 
Ariel  (Tempest),   70 
Armida,  25 
Arne,  Dr.,  4.3 
Asia,   133 

As    You  Like  It,    146,   161 
Aungier  Street  Theatre,  3,  6,  13,  14,  21-24, 
38,  82,   113 


Baddely,  85 

Bancroft,  56 

Barnum,   69 

Barri,   Madame  du,  80 

Barrington,   II,   13,   69,   102,    149,  151 

Barry,    Spranger,    71,    72,   74,  89,   90, 

93,   z°5,   '35,   136,   137,   '45,   164 
Barry,  Mrs.   (Mrs.   Dancer),   137 
Batetnan,   Kate,   11 
Bath,  54 

Beatrice   (Much  Ado),   161 
Beaux'   Stratagem,   28,   68,    162 
Beefsteak   Club,   123-25,   127,   128,   131 


B 


Beggars'    Opera,   10-12,    18,   23,   69,    160 
Beggars'   Wedding,    12 
Behn,   Mrs.,  84 
Bell,   Hillary,    120 
Bellamy,   Mrs.,   24 
92,  Bellamy,    George  Anne,  38,  67,  68,  82,  85- 

92,   95,  96,  98,   tot,   135,   137,    166 
Bellingham,   Sir    William,  81 
Berkley  Square,    156 
Berry,   74,   75 
Betterton,  33 
Betty,   Master,   11 
Blake  (William   Rufus),   62 

(173) 


INDEX. 


Bland,  Mrs.,   113-113,    117 

Blandy,  Miss,    120 

Blind   Quay,    rj 

Boaden,  2 

Booth,    Barton,    13,  33 

Booth,   Edwin,  83 

Boswell,  51,  §2,   66,   67,   7p,  80,  pp 

Boutell,   Mrs.,    137 

Bmv  Street,  47 


Bridgewater,   25 

British   Museum,    120 

Broderick,   7 

Brooks,    Mr.    and  Mrs.,  jg 

Buckstone,  J.   B-,  56 

Bullock,   23 

Burney,  Fanny,   67,   78,   7p,  80 

Busiris,   6 

Butler,  Mrs.,  30,  32 


Ccesar,   up,    153 

Ccesar,    Colonel,   143,    144,    133 

Ccesar,   Sir  Julius,    144 

Calypso,   24 

Campbell,    Colonel  John,    120 

Careless   Husband,   162 

Caroline,   Princess,   81 

Cass  ell,    in 

Cately,    Anne,    166 

Cato,    161 

Cave,  34 

Charles   II,   84 

Chetwood,   23,  26,  28,   /op 

Cholmondeley,    Captain    George,   77-7P 

Cholmondeley,   Hon.  Robert,   134 

Cholmondeley,   lord,   77,   78,  80 

Cholmondeley,    Martin    Horace,    134 

Cholmondeley,    Mrs.    {Mary     Woffington),    8, 

p,    77-8/,    T3p,    151,    134 
Christies,   m 
Cibber,  Colley,   17,   28,  33,  3p,  68,  6p,  103, 

113,    127,    156 
Cibber,    Mrs.    Susatma    Maria,  30,   3p,   40, 

42,    43,    44,    57,    60,    61,    72,   82,  8p, 

po-p3,   103,   136,   163,    166,    168 
Circe,   24 

Charke,    Charlotte,    17,    136 
Clerkcnwell,  34,    136 
Clivt,    Kitty,     12,    28,  30,    31,   44,   46,   47, 

57,  58,   62,  6p-7o,   72-74,    76,   82,   8p, 

po,   106,   122,   136 


Cleopatra  {All  for  Love),  46.  71,  83  pS, 
113,    161 

Coffey,    Charles,   13,   21,   68 

College   Green,   6,    10,   41 

Comedy  of  Errors,    164. 

Comical  Lovers,    163 

Comus,  83,    163 

Congreve,  31,  36,    60,    103,    170 

Conscious   Lovers,   28,   60,   162 

Constant  Couple,  17,  26-28,  44,  60,  76,  1)4, 
103,   162 

Coriolanns,   84,    160 

Cork,  37 

Corsican  Lovers,  jp 

Coioitry   /.asses,    26,    163 

Covent   Garden,   47,  32,   62,   6p 

Covent  Garden  Theatre,  21,  23—26,  30,  34, 
44,  46,  47,  32,  37,  38,  61.  67,  68, 
69>  7°~72y  77,  8*,  83,  86,  88-po,  92- 
P4,   p6,   123,   133,   136,   138,   146,  149, 

'5' 
Coventry,   Earl  of,    120 
Coventry,    Countess  of,    120 
Cross,   Mr.,  30 
Cross,   Mrs.,  30 
Crouch,  83 
Crow,   Mrs.,  38 
Crow   Street    Theatre,  113 
Cunningham,   2 
Cupid,    170 
Cushman,    Charlotte,  83 


(174) 


INDEX. 


D 


Dame,  M,   9,    II,    105 

Dame   Street,  8 

Damon  and  Phillida,    160 

Dancer,   Mrs.,    137 

D'Arblay,   Madame,  49,   66,   67,   79,   167 

Darnley,   Lord,   62 

Davenport,  Jean,    n 

Dams,  Tfiomas,  10,  17,  23,  23,  27,  32,  39, 

47,  49,   7*>   73,  9T<  9s,    I05,   '06 
Delane,  32,  38,  82 
Devil  to  Pay,   12,   21,   68,    160 
Dickens,    diaries,    it 
Digges   ( West),    128—132 
Distressed   Mot/ier,   83,    103,    161 
Dixey,    Henry   E.,    139 
Dobson,   Austin,    in 
Dodslcy,  36 

Doran,   17,   20,   49,    101 
Dorset,   Duke   of,   124-127,    129,    131-134 
Dorset,   Duchess  of,   133 
Dorset   Garden,  36 


Dorset  Street,   123,   128 

Double   Dealer,    103,   162 

Double   Gallant,   26,   164 

Douglas,   143,   161 

Downes   {prompter),  26 

Drew,  John,   99 

Drury  Lane    Theatre,    13,   23,   26,   28,  30- 

34,  36~38<  44~46,  52,  S6-S#,  60,  61, 
66,  69,  70,  72,  73,  76,  82,  83,  87-90, 
92,  98,  107,  116,  138,  136,  142,  143, 
155,   164 

Dryden,   161 

Dublin,  2,  3-10,  13,  18,  19,  20-23,  23,  26, 
34,  38-40,  42,  43,  52,  57,  65,  67,  69, 
80,  89,  96,  99,  100,  112-120,  122,  123, 
128,   129,    133-136,   149,   155 

Dublin    University  (Trinity    College),    10 

Dumesnil,   Madame,  52,    76 

Duval,  39 

Dyer,   Michael,    15 


Earl  of  Essex,    164 
Eccard,   49,    no 
Egypt,   168 
Elrington,   Francis,   6 
Elrington,    Ralph,   6 
Elrington,    Thomas,  6,    12,    14 
Emperor  of  the    Moon,   162 


England,  10,  22,  28,  53,  66,  70,  76,  77,  104, 

no,   120,   133,   145,   155 
Estcourt,   26 

Estifania  (Rule   a    Wife),  89,    163 
Eurydice   ((Edipus),    101,    136 
Eve,   24,   156 
Evelina,  80 


Faber,  John,    15 

Fair  Penitent,   72,    106,    161 

Fair  Quaker  of   Deal,    164 

Falstaff  (Henry  IV),  74 

Farquhar,   14,    25,   104,   170 

Fatal   Marriage,   28,  87,    163 

Fawnes'    Court,  6 

Fay,   Leon  tine,    11 

Fielding,   47 

Fine  Lady's  Airs,    163 


Fisher,    Kitty,  166 

Fitz-Gerald,  50 

Fleetwood,  34,  56-58,   60,   61 

Foote,   Samuel,  59,    70,  75,    99,    105,   137, 

142,   '43 

Forbes,    Captain,    140 

Forrest,   Edwin,   83 

Fox,  85,   87 

Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  89 

Frenchified  Lady,    164 


(175) 


INDEX. 


G 


Garrick,  David,  9,  16,  17,  23,  26,  27,  32- 
45,  47-53,  56-64,  68,  70-72,  75,  83, 
87,  90,  92,  95,  98,  102,  104,  103,  112, 
116,   121,   136,   137,   142-144.,  164 

Garrick    Club,   9,   II,  49,    105,   no 

Gay,   10,   13,  23,  46 

Geneste,  25,  31,  32,  33,  59,   99 

George's  Avenue,    10 

George's  JLane,  8,   10 

George's   Lane    Theatre,   10 

George  II,   109,   131 

George  III,    136 

George's  Place,  10 

George's   Street,   10 

Germaine,  Lord,    124 

Giffard,  33 

Giffard,   Mrs.,  58 

Hale,  27 

Hallam,  24,  23,  54 

Hamilton,   Duke  of,   120 

Hamilton,  Duchess  of,   120 

Hamlet,  31,  32,  44,  45,  59,   136,  160,  164 

Hampton,   62 

Handel,  39 

Harcoitrt,  Earl  of,  80 

Harlequin   Sorcerer,   116 

Harptir,  33 

Harrow,   139 

Harvey,   Francis,    no 

Haslang,    Comte,  86 

Hayes,   Katlurine,   91 

Haymarket   Theatre,  22,  36,  39,   73,   99 

Hebe,  24 

Henry  IV,   72,   74,   160,   16/ 

Henry    VI  (Ric/iard  III),  44 


Gilbert,  Mrs.,  11 

Goldsmith,    Oliver,   80 

Goodman's  Fields   Theatre,  33,  38 

Goodwood,  34 

Gondeau,  Madame,   146 

Gordon,  Jean,   120 

Granville,  Earl,   7 

Great  Britain,  39,  40 

Green  Room   Scuffle,   73 

Greenwich  Park,  28,   163 

Guido,   169 

Guilca,   117 

Gunning,   Elizabeth,   119,   120 

Gunning,   Maria,   119,   120 

Gunning,   Mrs.,   119 

Gwynne,  Nell,  2,  37,  133 


H 


Henry    VII,    161 

Henry    VIII,   160 

Hereford,  37 

Hill,  31 

Hippersley,    23 

Hitchcock,  3,  6,   8,   n-14,  16,   23,   27,  29, 

39,  66,   118,   132 
Hobbes,   7 

Hogarth,   15,  49,   no,   in 
Hone,  in 

Hoole,  John,   137,  139,   167 
Hoole's  Monody,   139,   167 
Horton,  Mrs.,   28 
Humors  of   tlu  Army,   70,   160 
Humorous  Lieutenant,    143,  162 
Hutchinson,   Squire  Hartley,   7 
Hutton,    Lawrence,   69 


Ierne,   113 

Infant  Phenomenon,   11 

Ipswich,  33 

Irish   Sea,   97 


Ireland,   7,   22,  39,   40,  42,  44,  47,  57,  58, 
70,   71,   90,    104,    no,    112,    116,  123- 
-126,    135,    166 
Irving,   Henry,   97,   139 


(176) 


INDEX. 


Jackson,  Michael,   13 
fames   I,   144 

Jane   Shore,  2,  83,  94,   108,   113,   136,   161 
Jeffries,  Miss,   120 
Jocasta  (CEdipus),   101,   136,   161 
Johnson,   Ben,  30,  31 

Johnson,  Dr.    Samuel,  34,  42,  31,  32,   yz, 
79,  80,  81,  98 


Jones   (Art  Collection),   m 
Jordan,  Dora,  2,   113 
Jove,   133 

Juliet  (Romeo  and  Juliet),    14. 
Julius    Ccesar,  83,   160 
Juno,  24 


K 


Kean,    C/tarles,  83 
Kembles,   13 
Kemble,   Roger,  82 
Kendall,   Mrs.,   u 
Killey,  Mrs.,  25 
King,  88 


King  (All's    Well),  31,  32 

King  John,  92,  93,  160 

King  Lear,  33,  71,  72,   137,   160 

King  Street,  32,  62 

Knight,  52 


Lacy,  James,  61,  69,  70,   109 

Lady  Jane   Grey,  89,  93,   161,  169 

Lady's  Last  Stake,   163 

Lamb,   Charles,   no 

lander,   Mrs.    General,   11 

Langa,  6 

Langtry,   Mrs.,  S3 

Lansdowne,  Lord,  m 

L'Assomoir,  86 

Latham,   no 

Lavinia,  /13 

Leatherhead,  81 

Lee  Lewes,  6,   10,   12,   14,   16,   17,   66, 

75 
Leicester  House,   89 
Lewis,  James,  99 
Liffey,   The,   10,  38,  43 
Lilliput,  12 

n 


73, 


Limerick,  37 

London,  2,  3,  6,  9,  10,  13,  21,  22,  26,  29, 
33,  34,  37,  38,  39,  44,  49,  5&,  64,  67, 
69,  72,  77,  7^,  86,  89,  92,  96,  98, 
100,  106,  110-112,  114,  116,  118,  134- 

i36,  '45,  153,  '55,  l64,  *&<> 
London    Cuckolds,   163 
Long  Acre,  47 
Long  Branch,  62 
Lonsdale  (Gallery),   in 
Lome,  Lord,   120 
Love  for  Love,  60,   104,    164 
Love  Makes  a  Man,  34,   164 
Love's  Last  Shift,   163 
Lowden,  Mr.,  128,   134 
Lydell,  33 
Lying  Lover,   163 
Lyttleton,  Lord,  84 


'(177) 


INDEX. 


M 


Macbeth,  32,   102,   161 

Macheath    {Beggars'    Opera),    11,   32,    14.9, 

160 
Mackaye,   Steele,  jp 
Macklin,  p,  29,  30,  31,  33,  44,  47,  49,  50, 

St,  52,  56-60,  62,  63,  65,  6p,  72,  80, 

105,  114,   143,   153 
Macready,  S3 
Maeder,   Clara  Fisher,  11 
Mahomet,   128,  161 
Malcolm,   Sarah,  pi 
Man  of  the  Mode,   163 
Mann,  Horace,   78 
Many  and  Do    Worse,   163 
Martin,  Betty,   n 
Martin,   Sir   Thomas,   in 
Mary,    Queen  of  Scots,   161 
Matthews,   the    Younger,   pp 
McArdell,  James,   13 
McCullough,    13 

McKee,   Thomas  J.,   p,  63,   143,   13/ 
McSiviney,   Owen,    54,  37,    116,    117,    126, 

Meath,  Earl  of,   11 


Measure  for  Measure,   70,   161 

Merchant  of  Venice,  31,  72,   136,   161,   164 

Mercier,  4p,   no,   /// 

Merry    Wives  of  Windsor,  44,  38,  83,  143, 

161 
Metham,   Mr.,  88 
Mills,  jo,   60 
Mills,  Mrs.,  30,  60 
Millimant  (Way  of  the    World),    102,   136, 

162 
Milton,   pi,   108 
Milward,  30,  31,  32 
Minden,   148 
Mock  Doctor,  164 
Moliere,   103 
Molloy,  3 
Momus,   2 
Moore,    Tom,  4 
Mossop,   13 
Mourning  Bride,   161 
Moivatt,  Mrs.,  83 
Much   Ado  About  Nothing,    161 
Murphy,  16,  3p,  4p,  50,  71,  pS,   104 


National  Gallery,   in 
Newgate,   120 

New    York,  11,  25,  33,   143 
New   York  Lyceum,  sp 


N 


Nonjuror,   6p,   102,   104,   133,    162 
Noscda,  58 
Nossiter,   Miss,    '37 


o 


Octavia,   168 

O'Keefe,   n,  42,  63 

Old  Bachelor,  28,  103,  i6j 

Oldfield,   Nance,  2,  66,   102,  rn6,  114,  113, 

*43,  *57 

O'Neill,  Miss,  83 


Op/telia  (Hamlet),    13,    14,  44,  jy,  136,  160 

Orford,  Lord,   7 

Ormond  Quay,   p 

Orrery,    Countess  of,    rrj 

Othello,   71,   /30 

Otwdy,  44,  68 


('78) 


INDEX. 


Paris,  52,  62,   76,   77,  80,    136 

Perry,   152 

Pluzdra,   138,   161,   169 

Phwbe,   110 

Plucbus,   133 

Pitt,  Miss,  82 

Pond,  Arthur,  49,   111 


Porter,   Mrs.,   113 

Pretender,    Young,  69 

Pritehard,   Mrs.,  30,    42,    44,    47,    38,     72, 

76,  82,   tot,    103,   122,   136 
Provoked  Husband,   71,   114,   135,   136,  162 
Provoked   Wife,  31,  61,  163 


Queen  Anne,  83 

Quecnsbcrry,   Duchess  of,  87 

Queen   Elisabeth  (Earl  of  Essex),    164 

Queen   Katherine  (Henry    VIII),   160 


Q 


Queen  Mab,  92 
Queen's   Square,    133 

Quin,  13,  33,  39,  44,  58,  68,  72,  82,  84, 
fy-frf,   '39 


R 


Raftor,   Kitty,  13,  46 

Rainsford  Street   Theatre,   13 

Ratcliffe  Highway,  33,  69 

Reade,    Charles,   1 

Recruiting   Officer,    17,  20,   23,  42,  44,  96, 

'37,   '6l 
Rchan,  Ada,   98,   100 

Reynolds,   Sir  Joshua,  24,  31,  80,  8/,   120 

Reynolds,   Miss,  80 

Rich,    Christopher,  23,    24,  30,  61,    68,  82, 

83,  87,    89-96,    116,    125,    126,    133- 

'37,  *39~'42 
Richard  III,  33,  40,  44,  43,  59,   '39,  '45, 
160 


Richmond,  34 

Ridout,   Mrs.,  30,  32 

Rival   Queens,   137,   164 

Robinson,   Sir   Thomas,  34 

Robinson,  Master   T/iomas,  34 

Rome,  no 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  92 

Roscius,   71,   72 

Rosco,  23 

Roxana  (Rival  Queens),  137,  i6r,  164,  169 

Russell  Street,  47 

Rule  a    Wife  and  Have  a    Wife,   163 

Ryan,  25,  38,  39,  63,  89,  93 


Sackville,  Lord,  124 

Scotland,   13,   70 

Scrub  (Beaux'   Stratagem),   68 

Seine,    Tlte,  62 

Scmcle,    127 

Shakspere,   70,   164,   170,  172 


Sheridan,   Thomas,    38,    60,    67,    113,   114, 
116,   121,    123-123,   127-133,   135,  136 
Sheridan,   Richard  Brinsley,  79,  80,  113 
She    Would    and    She     Wouldn't,    76,    136, 

'63 
Shutcr,  44,    140 


(179) 


INDEX. 


Siddons,  Mrs.,  42,  47,  82,   132 
Sigismunda  (Tancred),   135,   161 
Smith,  J.   Challoner,    no 
Smock  Alley  Theatre,  5,   6,  12,    14,   22,  38, 
40,   112,   113,   113,   "7,  123-125,  128, 

i32-r34 
Southampton   Street,  50,  51 
Southern,   170 
South  Kensington,   in 
Sparks,  Isaac,   11,   15.  60,     .? 
Sparks,  Luke,  15 
Spanislt  Eryar,  28,  162 


Statira   (Rival   Queens),  85,   137 

Steele,   103 

St.    Giles,  48 

St.  James,  48 

St.  James  Street,    110 

St.  John's   Gate,  34 

St.   Paul's,  33,  6p 

Strand,  31,   130 

Sumbel,   Mrs.,  85 

Suspicious   Husband,  So,    162,    164 

Sussex,  54 

Swift,  Dean,   7 


Tamerlane,  8q,   10  /,    161 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  02 

Tancred,   161 

Tasso,   167 

Taylor,   o,   67,   78 

Teddington,   10,    62,  64,  68,  81,    112,   133, 

143,   149,   150,    151,   133,   138 
Tempi-   Bar,  33 
Terry,   Ellen,    12 
Thackeray,    William  M.,  2 
Thackery,   Dr.,   139 
Thames,    The,  38,  43,   62 
Theatre    Royal,   5,   12,    15,    17,   22,  30,  40 
The  Artful  Husband,   163-164 
The  Astrologer,   162,   164 
The  Busybody,  44 
The   Committee,    103,   162 
T/te    Confederacy,   140,  163 
The  Fatal  Marriage,   162 
The  Foundling,   162 
The  Gallants,   163,   164 
The    Gamester,  28,   162 
The  Inconstant,  60,   164 
The  Miser,  04,  163 


The    Quacks,   164 

The  Refusal,  162,   164 

Tlie  Rehearsal,  33,  58 

The  Relapse,    84 

The  Rcn>er,   162 

The  Scornful  Lady,  164 

The   Sea    Voyage,   163 

The   Stratagem,   104 

The    Orphan,  44,   68,   161 

The    Wedding  Day,   162 

The    Wonder,   137,    162 

Thetis,  35 

Thomson,   84,    160 

Thrale,  Mrs.,  67,  70,  80 

Three    Weeks  after  Marriage,   164 

Timauthes,   167 

Todd,  25 

Tom.  Jones,  47 

Totichstone  (As    You  Like  It),  31 

Troy,  133 

Twelfth  Night,   161 

Twickenham,  62 

Twin  Rivals,   14,   160,   163 

Tyrawley,  Lord,  144 


J 


Ulysses,  161,  164 


u 

(180) 


INDEX. 


Vanbrugh,  36 

Vauxtiall,  120 

Venice  Preserved,   89,    164 

Vcntidius,    168 

Venus,  24 

Victor,   B.,   99,   103,    113,    T15,    134 

Village   Opera,   160 


Vincent,  Mrs,,  25,   146 

Violante,   Madame,   6,   7,   9-13,   15,    //,  22, 

34,  50,   69,    70 
Violette,   Mademoiselle,  52,   112 
Virgin    Unmasked,   160 
Virtue   Betrayed,    162 


w 


Walker,  39,  42 

Walpote,   7 

Walpole,  Horace,  47,   78,  80,   119,    144 

Wallack,  Lester,  99 

Wallacks,  62 

Ward,  John,    15,    17 

Ward,  Miss,  2 

Ward,   Mrs.,  82,  88 

Ward,   Sally,  82,   132 

Ware,   Mrs.,   23 

Way  of  the  World,    162,   164 

Wellclose   Square,   69 

Wesley,  John,    149 

Westminster,  33,   77,    133 

Westminster  Abbey,   69 


Whitchal,  Lord   Chief  Justice,  6 
Wigall,    T46 

Wilkinson,    Tate,    4.3,   85,    89,  91,    93,  94, 
95,  99,   104,   116,   135,   i38-H3>    *46, 

Wilks,  Robert,  26,   27,   103,  104 

Wills,  47 

Williams,   Sir   C.    H anbury,  34 

Wilson,  49,   iro 

Woffington,  John,  8,   10 

Woffington,  Mrs.,  8,   9,    14,   63 

Woffington,  Mary,  8,   10,  66-68,  77,  78,  81, 

149 
Wood,    7 
Woodward,  38,  92,   103,   136 


Yates,  38 

York   Buildings,    133,   139 


Young  Bcvil  {Corsica n  Lovers),  32,  39 


Zara   {The   Mourning  Bride),  31,  115,   136,    161 


(181) 


ERRATA. 

On  page     58   for  "causes  celebre,"  read  causes  celebres. 
On  page    113   for  "/erne's  Plains,"  read  feme's  Plains. 
On  page    135   for  "  Marcia,"  read  Maria. 


%*  The  complete  title  of  Foote's  farce,  referred  to  upon  pages  70  and  75,  was 
"The  Green-room  Scuffle;  or,  Battle  Royal  between  the  Queen  of  Babylon  and  the 
Daughter  of  Darius." 


(182) 


